


Secrets Better Left Buried

by rachelhanke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 90,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23745163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelhanke/pseuds/rachelhanke
Summary: After months in Azkaban Kaelix is finally released from the island fortress, but she doesn’t return to the outside world entirely unscathed. Having finally determined the identity of her parents and that her father is very much still alive, she grapples with feeling more alone than ever. Upon returning to Hogwarts she finds some things have changed for the worse since she left and tensions rise between friends both new and old. While the Ministry continues to watch her every move, she must decide whether uncovering the truth is worth jeopardizing her freedom or if some secrets are better left buried.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 27





	1. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey! Thanks for stopping by, I hope you'll stay a while. First things first, this is the second story in my Secrets series and if you haven't read the first one you might want to (or maybe you don't cause live dangerously and #yolo and all that) pop back to my author page and read through Secrets That Remain Untold to start at the beginning of Kaelix's story. Regardless, this is still Harry Potter and I still don't own anything you might recognize, so this is me, disclaiming *waves hands* everything, except Kaelix she is my smol bean. ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy.

_~ Summer 1987 ~_

It was dark. Grey clouds were thick overhead, full of rain that was threatening to fall; they blocked out most of the moon's glow. The wind blew hard and sharp, howling and as cold as ice, it made the trees moan with the effort to stay rooted in the ground. A brief flash of light illuminated the distance and was momentarily followed by the rolling of a thunder cap. A storm was not far off.

The once fresh autumn air was tainted with the smell of smoldering ash, wet hay, and charred flesh; it was suffocating. A once beautiful home lay in ruin, looking as though a cataclysm had struck it. The scene was silent and still from a distance, appearing abandoned. To the untrained eye it would appear abandoned even up close. Only certain people would be about to tell that there were people moving about the scene, analyzing, probing, and searching… but for what they did not know.

'Find the cause' had been their orders but as to what the 'cause' was, no one could tell them for certain. They still didn't know whether they were searching for a human, an animal, or some kind of device. They simply searched, examining every piece of the ruined house. Of course, everyone would have their own suspicions, a rumor they chose to latch onto. There hadn't been an event like this in several years, but the similarities would set some down a hopeless spiral of panic. The whispers would echo down the halls of the ministry, false accounts that had been exaggerated with each telling would spread like wildfires if they couldn't find the truth of what had happened here tonight. And then, even if they did, panic had a way of spreading faster than fact ever could.

It was in the nature of facts and fiction for the latter to spread more wildly. Reality tended to be so much more limited than the stories that the mind could weave. It was intoxicating, recounting something riveting for an eager audience. Most people wouldn't even realize they were exaggerating the truth into something else while they were doing it. Others would knowingly muddy the lines between the two, happy to go on living entirely in the world of fiction if it meant they didn't have to deal with the harsh facts of reality. Some of those people had been here, at this very house.

Some methods of escaping reality are more harmful than others. Though a casual observer would never be able to tell that it was those participating in a mostly harmless method that had caused the devastation before them. Not even the detectives who probed the scene with their polished wooden sticks would be able to fully discern what had happened to disturb the once peaceful home. Perhaps they'd discover what had left it in ruins this night, but it would be some time before anyone learned that it had been in a different kind of ruin for much, much longer.

They didn't have spells or incantations that would reveal to them the way the once peaceful home had been spiraling downward since long before this night. No number of spells could expose the root cause of the destruction or reveal the events that had led up to it. Their efforts were sincere but futile. There were only two people that could give them any idea as to what had occurred that night, and even still, neither one of them could really understand what had happened. At least not yet.

Hushed voices could be heard just on the other side of the rubble, indistinguishable to those few who were probing what remained of the building. The dull thud of their steps on the ground, the wood creaking and snapping as they shifted things to search, and the occasional shattering noise drowned out the voices. There were two people speaking and the hushed nature of their voices would indicate that they did not want to be overheard, not even by those who searched the house. Though even their hushed tones did little to cover the fact that they were arguing over something.

"...are you saying that after six years-" a stout man wearing dark robes and a bowler hat said, glancing nervously around as though checking that no one was listening, "-after six years, you think that You-Know-Who is still alive? And he's out there somewhere, giving orders to his followers again?"

"No, Cornelius. I am simply saying that we haven't seen anything from Voldemort-" Cornelius flinched "-or his old followers for the past six years. What would motivate them to do something like this now?"

"Whatever motivated them before, Albus. Power? Greed? Anger?" Cornelius said. "What does it matter what their motivation is?"

"You said it yourself, all those that would risk life in Azkaban for openly showing their loyalty to him have already done it and are sitting in a cell. So why would any of them do this when their leader hasn't returned?" Albus asked.

"So you do think he's returned?" Cornelius asked, shifting on his feet. "How would he do that, Albus, if he's dead?"

"You know as well as I do that no one can confirm that Voldemort died that night. Without a body I hesitate to believe that he is actually gone," Albus replied.

"He can't be alive, Albus, he can't be. He hasn't returned," he muttered. "Impossible."

"I think anything is possible until we have evidence otherwise."

Cornelius was silent for a while, looking uneasy and lost for words. "But-" he scrambled. "But then why? If he is still out there, why would we have peace for so long? This cannot be a calculated attack, it must be a stray death eater, without You-Know-Who. We defeated him, he cannot still be out there."

Albus' head turned slightly, "But defeated and killed are two entirely different outcomes. And nothing any death eater ever did was arbitrary."

Cornelius' eyes widened at his statement, "He's _gone_ , Albus. Dead. End of story. We can't- It's been _six years_ , really… We don't need to stir up any panic with false rumors that he might still be out there. Especially when we have no proof otherwise. Death eaters are one thing, we certainly didn't catch them all, but You-Know-Who? No, we can't have people thinking he's returned, or that it's even a possibility. Death eaters have attacked countless wizards and muggles alike for no reason other than spreading terror. Their attacks were the very definition of arbitrary. How can you think _he_ is behind this?" his voice rose more than he intended.

"You misunderstand me, Cornelius, I've no intention of starting false rumors. I simply don't believe that this is the work of a death eater, supported by Voldemort or not," he paused for a moment. "Everything that Voldemort and his followers did was part of his plan, every piece of it, every attack, every murder was planned to further his agenda. What seemed like arbitrary attacks to us, were strategic acts of terror meant to weaken both our own resolve and the muggle world's. This is too haphazard for him to be behind it, it's too random, too isolated, it accomplishes nothing. If Voldemort or his followers were to come back and make a statement, it wouldn't be this."

"You don't think it could have been a stray death eater, just acting of their own volition? Maybe there was something here that they wanted..."

"In a secluded house, miles from any town, what could possibly be here that they would have any interest in?"

Cornelius opened his mouth but came up short, he had no idea. "Then who would do something like this, something so horrible to these innocent muggles?" he questioned, not willing to relinquish the argument just yet.

"Maybe it was an accident," Albus mused, his eyes focused not on the scene in front of them but somewhere else, far off in the distance. "Or an act of mercy."

Cornelius' brow furrowed as he observed his companion. "I'm not making any allegations here, but you say that as if you know more than I do," his words were slow, measured.

"I'm afraid I've led you astray, I know nothing more than you do, Cornelius, I just like to keep an open mind about the information that I do have. When something is destroyed we tend to assume that the destroyer is the villain of the story, when the simple fact is that is not always true."

"Well whether it was an accident or an act or mercy or anything other than an attack, whoever did this still needs to understand that there are other ways, there's protocol and procedures to follow or else-" he was cut off.

"Or else someone like Voldemort may be killed unfairly? Or else someone like Sirius Black might go to Azkaban for life without a trial? I do not question your protocols or procedures, but I do believe there are instances that warrant exceptions, which history would indicate the ministry agrees with. In some instances."

Cornelius ran a hand over his brow and adjusted his hat. "Be straight with me, Albus, do you think this was the work of a dark wizard or not? Was there some new evil here tonight that we should be worried about?"

"Yes and no," he replied. "Dark wizards are not the only evil things in this world."

His eyes had that distant look about them again, focused on an image that only he could see. Something that might help explain what had happened. A memory that had initially been tucked away for later importance, but now it might be of use.

Cornelius was watching Albus, who remained silent and deep in thought. His eyes moved quickly over the older man, head to toe and back again, but he didn't seem satisfied. He was on the verge of asking a question but his hands were fidgeting with the contents of his robe pockets, his eyes shifting from Albus to the scene of ruins in quick flickering movements, and he rocked slightly on his feet. He didn't just want to ask the question, he wanted a certain answer as well and he was afraid he wouldn't get the one he wanted.

His lips parted and he glanced at Albus again contemplating whether he should ask the question or not. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could voice a word there was a small 'pop' and a woman appeared; walking toward the two of them. Albus returned from his deep concentration and spoke to her.

"Good evening, Minerva. Though not as good for some, as you can see," he said solemnly, indicating the ruins that were left of the house.

The woman nodded as she walked briskly to stand next to Albus, her emerald robes billowing out behind her. As she stopped beside him, her robes fell still around her feet and her eyes began to scan the ruins in front of her.

"Have you found out what happened yet, Albus?" she breathed, turned her gaze to him.

"We have learned nothing that we did not already know," he replied.

Minerva looked somewhat disappointed.

"Were you hoping for something more?" he asked.

"Just something that would confirm that all the rumors flying around are just our own fearful imaginations. You know what they have been saying don't you?" she glanced at him but he said nothing so she continued. "They have been saying that this is an omen, Albus. An omen foretelling the return of You-Know-Who. People are panicking." She sighed. "It hasn't been like this in six years."

Albus remained silent for a few moments while Minerva's words hung in the cold night air. "You are the last person that I expected to hear that from. Particularly knowing how you feel about Divination." -she huffed- "As for the panicking, it's not entirely unwarranted, as you said it has been six years since something like this has happened and it reminds them of darker times. But this house is very different than any of the ones that were demolished six years ago."

Cornelius was fidgeting on Albus' other side partially excluded from the conversation but still listening intently.

"How so?" Minerva asked when Albus didn't elaborate.

"Look to the sky, what do you see? Thick dark storm clouds. Nothing out of the ordinary, no signature dark mark stating that a death eater had been here or any other follower of Voldemort's."

Minerva's eyes scanned the sky briefly before saying, "They may have decided to begin discreetly."

"They would not have begun here, not with this house, destroyed in this way," Albus answered simply.

"How can we be sure?" she asked.

"If they had come here for a purpose that required discretion, they would not have destroyed it like this, leaving a trail for us to follow. If instead they wished for a display of rising power, then they would have chosen a more public place in both the wizard and muggle world. These rumors that are spreading will burn themselves out in a few days when there are no follow up incidents," he said.

"These kinds of events have their way of sticking in people's memories," she said.

Albus nodded his agreement but remained silent.

"What are we going to do, Albus? Whoever has done this is still out there somewhere, and we have no idea who they are or where they're going."

"Isn't that more of a Ministry thing to decide, I don't mean to be rude but taking action against criminals is what the Aurors are paid to do," Cornelius said seizing the moment to jump back into the conversation.

"I was only thinking that with these rumors spreading so rapidly, people would feel more at ease if we did something immediately," Minerva stated.

"Well maybe you should think about the fact that it's the Ministry's job to ensure the safety of the wizarding world, and running the Ministry is the Minister's job, not Albus'," Cornelius replied.

Minerva opened her mouth to argue her point farther but Albus interrupted her.

"Minerva, Cornelius has a point, we do pay the aurors well to perform their jobs. We should not interfere with them. However, as it is their job, I would expect them to take some action immediately, people will be expecting it," he said pointedly.

They both fell silent. Minerva knew there was no use arguing the point further, and Cornelius because he was at a loss over Albus taking his side.

"We do not need to be at war with each other, especially if there is a new threat out there," he said.

"Do we have any idea what that threat might be?" Minerva asked anxiously.

"We don't even know that there is a threat yet," he said absently. His eyes were fixed on a person that was approaching them from the ruins of the house. He had a lithe build and was moving carefully but efficiently through the deris, as a hunter would stalk his prey. He slowed as he approached the three of them and nodded to each one in turn, "Sir, Professor, Professor."

"Novak, what is it, have you found something of importance?" Cornelius asked impatiently.

"Another one of the muggles, the young girl, she's alive," he said.

It was silent for a moment before they all collectively registered what he'd said; there was another survivor.

"Alive? Are you certain?" Cornelius asked.

"How did you not notice this before?" Minerva asked.

"Where?" Albus asked.

"Follow me," Novak said, "I'll explain on the way."

He led them across the rubble, picking through large fragments of wood, glass, and indistinguishable furniture remains.

"We were told initially that there were no survivors, and we were given strict instructions not to touch the bodies," he explained, "some nonsense about contaminating the scene," he added with a tone that clearly showed his disapproval. "As you know that had to be modified when we found the other one was alive."

He slowed to a halt just outside a semi-clear circle that was completely blackened from the fire. It looked as if the blast had been most severe in this area; it was hard to believe that anything here would have survived.

"I was inspecting this area here," he said, indicating the debris to their right, "when I thought I heard something unusual coming from over there." This time he indicated what appeared to be the remains of a couch and a blackened pile of rags. He then led them closer to the remains and continued, "so naturally I came over for a look and found that the source of the sound was her shallow breathing. Per the Minister's orders, I didn't touch the body before informing you, sir," he directed the last comment to Cornelius.

"Novak is this some kind of joke, I don't even see-" Cornelius began.

"Took me a minute to realize it too, that bundle of rags there, that's her. If you move over that way you can see a bit of her face through her hair, the fact that it's black helped disguise her a bit," he said pointing to the darkened mass.

An icy, bone-chilling wind blew around them, Cornelius shivered, Minerva pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, and Albus remained motionless. Even as lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled dangerously close, no one moved.

"What do you want us to do, sir? Technically the Minister's orders are void, again, she being alive and all. Should we take her to St. Mungo's as well?" Novak asked, seemingly unaffected by the scene in front of him.

Cornelius opened and closed his mouth several times before he found his voice, "I think that would be what the Minister wanted in this particular case. When she wakes she may be able to tell us something about what happened here."

A siren in the distance came within earshot and Cornelius jumped slightly. Novak simply glanced in the general direction of the noise before turning back and continuing with business as usual.

Albus walked ahead of the rest of them and knelt down next to the girl's body. He withdrew his wand and muttered something under his breath. A soft light spread out over her body, blanketing her.

"Shall we get her transported away and disperse from the scene before the muggles get here? It would look rather suspicious if they found us all here and it doesn't look like we're going to find anything else anyway."

"No," Albus said quietly but sternly as the sirens grew louder. "She's only a child, she won't be able to tell us anything."

"I beg your pardon?" Novak asked.

"She's stable, doesn't appear to have suffered any physical harm, other than being somewhat cold which is understandable this evening. Questioning her will only lead to her distress. Leave her here for the muggles to find, she will be safe with them."

"Sir?" Novak asked Cornelius.

"Albus, just because she's young doesn't mean she can't help us figure out what happened-"

Albus cut him off, "She's barely seven years old, Cornelius. We have the boy, we can ask him what happened here. If he doesn't know then it's unlikely that she will know anything more."

Cornelius looked as though he was having a hard time making a decision, he was once again fidgeting with the contents of his robe pocket, rocking on his feet a little, and looking everywhere except at the others present.

"I don't mean to be rude but the muggles are getting closer," Novak remarked as the sirens turned onto the street that led up to the house.

Albus stood and faced Cornelius squarely. Cornelius finally met his gaze and caved in.

"Leave her to the muggles. We can always find her again if the Minister wants to question her. Give the order to return to the Ministry."

Novak nodded and retreated to give the order. Small 'pops' could be heard across the scene indicating the departure of the investigators, a very close one signaled Minerva's departure.

"I hope you're right, Albus, for your sake," Cornelius said before quickly disappearing himself.

"As do I, for the sake of us all," Albus said quietly to himself.

The muggle vehicles were screeching to a halt at the end of the drive, only fifty feet from where Albus still stood. He whispered something and made a small gesture with his wand. Everything returned to its original place and a blanket of warmth settled over the girl, a small breeze uncovering her face to aid their search. None of the muggles could see the last adjustments to the scene that played out a few feet from their approaching footsteps. With a final 'pop' the scene was left for them to investigate, less one of the survivors.

_~ Present Day ~_

Kaelix sat with her back against the cold stone of her cell without feeling it. She gazed at nothing, nor did she register the screaming that echoed through the prison walls. She's lost track of the number of days she'd been there, although she hadn't made much of an effort to keep track in the first place. Days meant nothing here. Her only real sense of time was marked by the unappetizing meals she was given twice a day.

She hadn't slept at all the first few days. Perpetually cold with no indication of whether it was night or day had bothered her more than the dementors had. Those first few days her mind had been filled with the voices. They were loud, clear, and relentless. But they were also old, tired echos that she'd long since memorized. They'd haunted her dreams and waking hours more times outside of Azkaban than they had inside. No, her body's constant shivering was far worse. By the time it had lessened, she hadn't even bothered to consider whether it was her body adapting to the constantly low temperatures or whether she was just slowly freezing to death.

It didn't matter that she was constantly surrounded by dementors, she wouldn't have allowed herself to hope even in their absence. She didn't hope, she didn't dream, she didn't cry, she just… existed. Hopes and dreams wouldn't help her escape, they would only disappoint her. There was nothing but emptiness. Nothing but darkness separated one moment from the next. Was this what it was like to live after the dementor's kiss? A still beating heart but only to maintain a living shell that once contained a soul. Maybe one of them had slipped into her cell while she'd slept and taken it from her…

Her head cocked ever so slightly, her ear picking out the unfamiliar noise. It was subtle but striking in its contrast to the sounds she'd memorized, the sounds that she'd become numb to. Footsteps. Dementors didn't have footsteps. She shifted her glassy gaze to the door of her cell. The door that hadn't so much as been touched since day they locked it behind her. She forced her eyes to focus, their perpetually glassy state a bit hard to shake. More unfamiliar noises. Clicking. Yet they were nearly familiar; last time she'd heard them they'd been reversed.

After one final click the door swung open with a sharp groan, and the stale air of her cell seemed to sigh. A rather tall man was standing on the threshold, a dementor hovering just behind him. She nearly squinted at his bright sapphire robes, an aggressive contrast to the colorless world she'd lived in for so long. He gazed at her with deep brown eyes, his brown face lined with years beyond what he'd lived. He didn't say a word as she held his gaze, but he stepped to the side of the cell door and gestured to her.

"So," she said, her voice cracking a bit, "the Old Man came through after all."

Those depthless brown eyes smiling at her was all the confirmation she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: As always, thank you so, so, so much for reading! I'd love it dearly if you took just a minute or two to tell me what you thought of this first chapter of the next installment of Kaelix's story! Any guesses about what's going to happen now or in the nearish future? Any burning questions you haven't gotten answers to yet? (other than, you know, LOTS of Stuff and Things from the first story hehe pleasedon'thateme answersarecomingIpromise). I hope you all are staying safe and sane, until next time! :)


	2. The Inquiry

Kaelix followed the stranger silently through the cold prison corridors, no sound save their own echoing footsteps. Her chest tightened more with each step she took that brought her closer to the outside world. Was this even real or had she fallen into some deep, sleep deprived delusion? She thought to pinch herself but reasoned that if this was all in her head then it wouldn't work anyway. So she continued on, fully expecting that any moment Fudge or one of his cronies would materialize and order the dementors to take her back to her cell. Crazed laughter would breakout among the other prisoners, mocking her foolishness at believing she could escape, that anyone could ever escape Azkaban. Surely it was only a matter of time before someone stopped them, surely they weren't just going to let her walk out the front door.

But no one stopped them as they reached the exterior door. Dementors hovered over their shoulder in a disapproving way, if one could hover in such a way. The door swung open, her breath caught in her throat, her body unwilling to relax into the idea of this being real. She stepped forward, through the door, squinting at the brightness of the overcast sky. After so long in the dark, muted world, it may as well have been the brightest sunny day of her life. Closing her eyes she breathed in the salty ocean air and her shoulders lifted. She was free.

The thought of what awaited her here, in the outside world beyond those dark prison walls crashed down on her. The weight pressing down, down, down with a paralyzing force. A raw wound that had festered and scabbed over cyclically like the tide, now freshly torn open once again. She retreated within herself at the memories it drew up, and for a moment, however brief, a part of her wished that Fudge had appeared, wished she could crawl back into that hole and just exist as a hollow shell. In that hole nothing else had existed, not really. Nothing else had mattered. It was easier to just exist. It didn't take from you the same what that life did. Beyond those cell walls, beyond this island, that took more.

"Miss Williams," her escort said gently, "we must be going now."

He gestured down to where a small boat rocked gently in the water, tied to the dock. Her stomach churned at the prospect of crossing the choppy water again and he gave her a moment to collect herself. Even though all they'd done was walk through the prison corridors, this was the most physical activity she'd done in… well she wasn't sure how long. Following him down the steep steps she decided that she already needed a nap. They climbed into the boat in silence, their dementor escort had remained at the top of the stairway but seemed to track each of their movements with whatever it used to see, Kaelix knew very well that there wasn't anything resembling eyes beneath that hood. The tall stranger nodded farewell to the dementor, it did not return the gesture.

The boat moved gently away from the dock, driven no doubt by magic, as neither of them were rowing. Kaelix watched over her shoulder as the ominous prison looming over them got smaller and smaller. Slowly disappearing into the fog that perpetually hung around the island, until all she could see was the ghost of the outline burned into her vision.

It occurred to her sometime later that she maybe should have asked where they were going, but she brushed the idea aside. He probably wouldn't tell her even if she had cared enough to ask. Besides, it didn't really matter where they were going, it wasn't like she had a say in the matter. She was confident that the Old Man would be showing up soon enough, and when he did he would undoubtedly divulge whatever information he wished to give her regarding all of this but no more than he saw necessary. It wouldn't matter what questions she asked, or who she asked them of, she'd only get whatever he decided to give her.

"Here," the man said, holding out a thick cloak.

She eyed it for a moment but did not immediately reach for it.

"You're shivering," he added.

She glanced down at her arms, pale from so many days spent inside those stone walls, and saw that she was indeed shivering. She'd been cold for so long now that she hadn't even noticed. She took the cloak from him with stiff fingers and pulled it over her shoulders, folding her hands deep into the sleeves. Neither one of them said another word for the remainder of the trip across the water.

Once they reached the mainland, Kaelix followed the man off the boat, taking care not to trip on the oversized cloak still wrapped around her. They moved off into the trees and a quick glance back revealed that the boat was drifting away again, presumably back to the island. The man withdrew a silver pocket watch and what looked like a ratty old tennis ball.

"It's nearly time. Put your hand on this please," he said, holding the tennis ball out to her and slipping the watch back into his cloak. "Quickly now."

Kaelix stepped forward with her hand outstretched, no questions asked.

"Mind the landing," he warned.

Before she could ask what that meant, the ball was warm beneath her touch. It was so startling that she nearly jerked her hand back but she held fast. An unpleasant jerk behind her navel and then her feet left solid ground. Everything tilted and spun at once, she was vaguely aware of the man's presence across from her. They were speeding forward, or at least it felt like forward, in the howl of wind and rush of blended colors it was impossible to tell which direction they were going. Her hand was stuck to the tennis ball as though they were magically fused together, pulling her through space and then-

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Her feet slammed into the ground and she staggered forward; the ball falling to the ground with a small thud. She was certain that she would have fallen right on top of the ball in a crumpled heap had a firm hand not gripped her elbow and steadied her. His grip, however, did nothing to steady her stomach, which felt like it was still whipped up in the swirling vortex of color and wind. If she'd had anything in her stomach to retch up, she would have.

Her escort beckoned her to follow. They stepped out of the small alley they'd landed in and looked up and down a street that contained several shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. She lagged a few steps behind, hiking up the hem of her cloak as she went. They stepped into an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass. Kaelix examined the shapes and patterns of the heavily graffitied wall behind the box as her companion stooped to miss hitting the low hanging portion of the ceiling that had become dislodged. Kaelix squeezed up against the telephone apparatus, suddenly feeling very small next to his staggering presence in the small space. The apparatus hung at an angle, pressing in on her even more in the tight space, it looked as though a vandal had tried to rip it off.

Had Kaelix cared about anything at the moment she might have wondered why they had come to a nearly abandoned part of what looked like London, to use a run down, presumably broken telephone box. But instead she just stared at the red frame of the box, it's color harshly bright in her grey world. The man reached past her and picked up the receiver. He dialed a few numbers that Kaelix didn't see and a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver that the man held aloft, but as though a woman were standing right there in the box with them. Her voice surrounded them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Kaelix blinked. She shouldn't have been surprised, she wasn't really, but the small hairs on the back of her neck rose.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror, escorting Kaelix Williams to her inquiry hearing."

At least now her mystery escort had a name.

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Kaelix saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. She picked it up; it was a square silver badge with her name followed by Inquiry Hearing on it. She pinned it to the front of her robes as the female voice spoke again.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

Didn't they know she didn't have a wand? Wouldn't her name be on some sort of blacklist, refusing her entry to a place like this?

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and they began to sink slowly into the ground. There was a dull grinding noise as they were encapsulated in darkness, moving farther and farther beneath the earth. After about a minute, a chink of golden light illuminated their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies until it hit Kaelix in the face and she had to blink rapidly to keep her eyes from watering.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.

 _Sure,_ thought Kaelix, _a pleasant day._

The door of the telephone box sprang open and Kingsley stepped out. As Kaelix followed him, she took in the sight of the hall before them. They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with polished, dark wood flooring. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh. On the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centar, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of their wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of the Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

"This way," said Kinglsey beckoning her toward the fountain.

They joined the throng of Ministry workers winding their way between the ebb and flow of the masses. Some of them were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases; still others were reading the _Daily Prophet_ while they walked, miraculously managing to avoid running into anyone. As they passed the fountain Kaelix saw silver sickles and bronze knuts glinting up at her from the bottom of the pool. A small smudged sign beside it read:

ALL PROCEEDS FROM THE FOUNTAIN OF MAGICAL BRETHREN WILL BE GIVEN TO ST. MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES AND INJURIES

"This way," Kingsley said again, nodding toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying SECURITY. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his _Daily Prophet_.

I'm escorting a visitor." Kingsley gestured to Kaelix.

"Step over here," the wizard said in a bored voice.

Kaelix walked closer to the man and he held up a long gold rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Kaelix's front and back.

"Wand," the security wizard grunted at Kaelix, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.

Kaelix blinked.

"It is already in the Ministry's possession," said Kingsley.

"Huh?"

"Her wand was previously confiscated by the Ministry, as such it is not currently in her possession. I was told you had been informed of this," Kingsley explained.

The security guard eyed them over his glasses as if he could see right through them. He turned to the brass instrument at his right and pressed a few buttons and turned a knob. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. He tore this off and read it aloud.

"Nine inches, ebony, with a… hippogriff tail hair. In use less than a year prior to confiscation by the Ministry. Correct?"

She tried to swallow the dryness in her throat, "Yes."

"Very well. The Ministry will retain ownership of your wand until such time as it sees fit to relinquish it to you. Good day."

"Thank you, Eric," said Kingsley, nodding to Kaelix to follow him once more.

"They maneuvered back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates. The crowd jostled slightly and Kaelix did her best to block out the deafening buzz of idle chatter around her. Her jaw clenched and her shoulders rose in tension. She followed as close behind Kingsley as she could, using the space left by his wake to avoid as much jostling as possible. They moved through the gates to a smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts shook behind wrought golden grilles.

They stood back with the crowd until a great jangling and clattering grew louder and a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and Kaelix followed Kingsley inside with the rest of the crowd. Kaelix pressed herself up against the back wall of the lift, flattening herself as much as possible. She closed her eyes tight against the chatter that assaulted her ears. When the lift jolted into motion and a particularly ear splitting laugh echoed through the small space, Kaelix nearly clamped her hands down over her ears to block it out.

At just the first stop down everyone but her and Kingsley departed the lift. She sighed with relief at the space afforded to them. The lift jerked into motion once more, dropping lower and lower. When it slowed to a stop, the same cool female voice from the telephone box rang out again, "Department of Mysteries."

Kingsley stepped off and Kaelix followed him down an ominous corridor. THe walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a single plain black one at the opposite end. As they moved down the corridor and the door drew closer, the hairs at the back of her neck stood up, an icy chill shooting down her spine. She expected to be led through it, but she was relieved when instead Kingsley turned to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.

They reached the bottom of the steps and walked along another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to the small hole in the ground that had been her home for the past… she still wasn't sure how long. The torches lining the walls dispelled some of her trepidation, but the cold air was a competing familiarity. There were several doors along this corridor, she imagined each one opened to the same windowless ten by ten cell. No light. No air. Nothing. Maybe they'd only retrieved her from Azkaban to keep her here instead.

Near the end of the corridor Kingsley turned through a door that was smaller than the others and without an immense iron lock. She stepped through the door after him and met those all too familiar sparkling blue eyes. He smiled warmly at her. She didn't have it in her to return it.

"It's good to see you again, Kaelix. Though I wish we were meeting under slightly better circumstances."

She didn't respond. What did he expect her to say? 'Good to see you too, thanks for getting me out of prison, where the hell are we and what are we doing here?' Of course that's not what he expected, he wasn't a complete fool. A manipulative bastard, yes, but not a fool. She sat down in the empty chair across from him without a word.

"I'm afraid we don't have much time so I'll get right to it," he leaned forward a bit before continuing, his tone and gaze focused. "In just a moment Kingsley will take you in next door and a small panel of wizards will be asking you a series of questions followed by a practical exam of sorts. You will have to answer them truthfully, but I implore you to keep your answers short, don't give them anything more than you absolutely have to. And more importantly, during the practical portion when they ask you to perform a few basic spells, it is imperative that while you perform those spells, you focus entirely on Kingsley. You cannot let your focus wander to anyone else in the room, do you understand?"

Understand what she was instructed to do? Yes. Understand what the hell was going on and why she had to do it? Absolutely not. But she knew which one he was asking about, so she nodded.

He smiled again. "Wonderful. I will be present but I will merely be an observer as I have already spoken at great length on the subject at several previous meetings, much to their displeasure." He paused, considering her for a moment. "I'm sure I don't need to warn you, but several of those present at this meeting have already made up their minds. However, legally speaking, they must prove their beliefs in order to keep you in custody."

"It's time," said Kingsley.

"One last thing," he said quickly, "I only hold so much power in this and I am afraid I have exhausted more than all of it. The rest is up to you."

Her gaze narrowed on the Old Man, it didn't take much to infer what he meant: she wasn't free yet, he didn't have the power to make that happen, and if she screwed this up there wouldn't be a second chance.

"Dumbledore," Kingsley pressed.

"Yes, yes," he said, rising to his feet. "Remember," he implored her once more, "focus only on Kingsley."

Kaelix nodded and followed Kingsley out into the corridor and then immediately through the door to the right. As she shadowed him into the cold room, a prick of deja vu rubbed her. The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Benches lined the walls on elevated platforms. The chair at the center of the room was covered in chains. Kaelix imagined them springing to life and binding whoever sat between them. It was a dungeon. Larger than her cell in Azkaban, but a dungeon nonetheless.

Many of the benches were empty, most of them, but the highest few were occupied by a number of shadowed figures. They'd been talking in hushed tones when Kingsley had opened the door, but now they fell into an ominous silence. In the dim lighting she couldn't make out any of their faces, not that she expected to recognize any of them anyway. There was really just the one person she knew she would recognize, he would certainly be there, one of the ones the Old Man was referring to when he mentioned those who had already made up their minds.

Kingsley's footsteps echoed as he crossed the room to a waiting chair.

"Remove your cloak and take your seat," a cold male voice rang across the room.

Kaelix moved forward and her own footsteps echoed loudly through the room. It felt a bit like walking the plank off a pirate ship, not that she'd ever been on a pirate ship. She shrugged the cloak off and hung it over the back of the chair, immediately feeling its absence and wondering if it really mattered or if they were just trying to make her miserable. The metal chair was cold through her threadbare prison robes and the chill reminded her of Azkaban. She eyed the chains wrapped around either arm of the chair and expected them to wrap tightly around her, crushing her wrists. But all they did was clink threateningly at her, a pair of metal snakes.

The lights rose slow and rather dramatically, giving her eyes more time to adjust than the harsh contrast of the overcast sky back on the island. As it rose, the lighting began to reveal a few of the faces of those towering over her, she scanned them searching for him. There were about two dozen of them, she didn't care to count, and they were all wearing robes of such a dark shade of purple that she had thought they were black. Black would have suited them better. There was a broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. Next to her was a short witch with unpleasant features and a small dusty rose hair piece. And on the other side of the squat witch was the one face she recognized; Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. He wasn't wearing the bowler hat that he'd had on every other time she'd seen him, which seemed to shrink his presence. He looked none too pleased to be there.

"The defendant is now present," said Fudge.

"Is this a trial, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked.

He'd slipped in behind them and taken a seat somewhere off to her right.

"You are not permitted to speak during the course of this inquiry, Dumbledore, have you already forgotten?" Fudge did nothing to hide his disdain for the Old Man.

"I am here as Kaelix's legal representation as she is not of age, and I am allowed to speak to the fairness and due process of this inquiry. As such, I am merely pointing out that the term defendant implies there is sufficient evidence to charge her with a crime, for which she would be on trial. To my knowledge, Kaelix has not committed any such act and referring to her in such a way reveals a predetermined bias against her that would render this entire inquiry as tainted. Then we would have to start the process all over again, and I think we can agree that no one here wants that to happen."

Fudge's face turned several shades of purple and he struggled to find any words to protest. The seething look he gave Dumbledore felt like it transcended this moment.

"What would you have us call her instead, Albus?" the unpleasant looking woman asked.

"I think she rather likes being called by her name, Dolores." His tone was wholly pleasant but Kaelix could see even from where she was sitting that it didn't match his eyes.

Dolores returned her own all too pleasant smile but Kaelix didn't miss the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Very well," said Fudge, finally recovering enough to string a sentence together. "The subject of this inquiry, Kaelix Williams, is present. Would you care for some water before we begin?"

Kaelix was suddenly aware of how dry her throat was but they didn't wait for her to answer before a glass was levitating toward her. It came to a halt and she plucked it out of the air. Something didn't feel right.

"Drink up," Fudge said.

There wasn't a single piece of her that didn't think the drink was laced with something, but her dry throat scratched with each swallow. And based on the order Fudge had given her, it didn't seem like she really had a choice in the matter. So she begrudgingly downed a few gulps and set the glass on the small side table that had appeared next to her.

Fudge gave a tight lipped smile. "Very good, let us begin. Inquiry hearing of the fifth of September."

Down the row a red-headed man with horn-rimmed glasses began scribbling on a bit of parchment. His hair was so striking that it reminded Kaelix of someone else, she knew that hair, she was annoyed by that hair, it was right at the edge of her mind but her brain couldn't catch up.

"The inquiry panel includes: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister…"

Her attention snapped to the woman who sat at Fudge's right. That name. She knew that name. Would never forget that name. She recalled the conversation that seemed like a lifetime ago, feeling a surge of anger rise within her, it pricked through her veins. For a brief moment she forgot where she was.

" _There's a Ministry employee who has drafted anti-werewolf legislation, she has labeled us half-breeds...Goes by the name Umbridge, a name that unfortunately carries a lot of weight at the Ministry…"_

_Remus…_

The woman caught her gaze and smiled sweetly at her. A vicious, calculating, penetrating smile, and a gaze that saw right through her. And just like that her anger was snuffed out, like a flame with no oxygen.

"Miss Williams, do you know why you're here today?" asked Fudge.

Her gaze slid back over to him. "No."

"No?" he said with a raised brow.

"No," she confirmed.

"No? You don't know?"

"I don't know."

Fudge adjusted in his seat and gestured to the rest of the panel. "You have no idea why you're here, why we're all here, participating in this inquiry today?"

She let out a small sigh, this was going to be a long day.

"I think we have established that she doesn't know why we're all here today," Dumbledore interjected.

Fudge frowned and didn't acknowledge his comment. "Very well. You're here today, because the Ministry has reason to believe that you are a danger to yourself and others. Do you have anything you'd like to say on the matter before we begin?"

"No." Her throat was dry again.

He appeared displeased with her answer, though she had a feeling he would be displeased with just about any answer she gave him. He shuffled a few papers on his desk and asked without looking up, "You purchased your wand from Ollivander's in Diagon Alley, correct?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"And can you tell us what the core of that wand is?"

"Yes."

A moment of silence passed and then-

"Well?" he gestured to the room rather sharply.

"I'm sorry?"

"The core of your wand, what is it?" he nearly snapped.

"Oh- It's a hippogriff's hair."

"Hmm, and are you aware of how rare that particular core is?" he scribbled some of his own notes.

"Ollivander might have mentioned it."

"Do you know why that is?"

"I imagine it's because no one has the patience to deal with difficult creatures."

"Dangerous creatures," he corrected. "Hippogriffs are very dangerous creatures."

Some murmuring broke out among the other members of the inquiry panel and before she even thought it through, Kaelix was saying, "Anything can be dangerous under the right circumstances."

Everyone fell silent.

Fudge's mouth twitched. "Indeed."

Kaelix fought the urge to roll her eyes. What difference did the core of her wand make in all of this? Were they all so bored that this is what they spent their time doing?

"Have you ever had any difficulty performing magic?" he continued.

She opened her mouth, intending to deny it, but when her voice filled the room it was a "Yes" that emerged from her lips.

"Yes?" he asked, raising a brow over his reading spectacles.

She nodded, not quite sure she trusted her own mouth.

"Please answer verbally," said one of the wizards to Fudge's left.

She swallowed the small lump that had formed in her throat and said again, despite her own mental protests, "Yes." She did her best to mask any confusion from her features.

"How often?" Fudge asked.

"Just…" _once_. _Just once, just say once._ But she couldn't. "A few times." The words felt foreign to her own tongue, as if someone else had drawn them from her lips.

"How was it difficult?"

"Sometimes I- I'll have to…" she searched for the words she wanted to say, the words her mouth would let her say, "try a few times to get spells to work."

Damn them, she knew the drink had been laced but she hadn't expected this. She wasn't sure she had the wherewithal to outsmart them at their own game, not right now. She was so tired.

"Why do you think that is?"

Truthfully? "I have no idea." Then in an effort to sell it she shrugged. "Everything takes practice, doesn't it?"

She cursed herself for not having read more about viaterserum last year, or whenever she'd been at Hogwarts. Merlin, she didn't even know what year it was. They'd certainly set themselves up with the advantage. Even if she'd read up on viaterserum, she had no way of knowing if that's what they had used. She wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver, if she'd known they would take the cloak away again she never would have accepted it. Better to stay numb to the cold than to have to suffer again after only a bit of warmth.

"Did you need more practice than your classmates?" grunted an older, crooked wizard to her right.

This time she could almost feel the involuntary 'yes' forming on the tip of her tongue. Her lips parted and before she could think of a way around it the word tumbled from her mouth.

"Do you know why you needed more practice than the other student? Why magic is more difficult for you? Fudge pressed.

Kaelix didn't answer immediately. Her brain was still somewhat fuzzy and working a little slower than she'd like. The shivering didn't help. But she had to pull it together, had to figure her way out of this game they'd constructed. Had to trick them into letting her walk out of here so she could… well she didn't know what she'd do at that point, but she'd figure it out later.

"I was two years behind when I started, all things considered, I think it evened out."

Fudge's eyes narrowed. "Have any of the spells you've performed ever gone wrong?"

"Of course they have," she said.

"Of course?"

"That's how it works, right? While you're practicing something, you tend to get it wrong a few times before you get it right."

Fudge's jaw clenched and a small vein bulged at his temple. Apparently that wasn't the answer he had been looking for.

"Miss Williams, is it true that during a weekend visit to the village of Hogsmeade during your third year, you attacked another student and damaged the street and a shop front in the process."

She chewed the inside of her lip, there wasn't really a way around this one.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps, Minister, if you weren't seated quite so far away from her, you wouldn't have such a difficult time hearing her answers," Dumbledore supplied from his vantagepoint.

Fudge's cheek twitched. A few murmurs were exchanged between the other panel members.

"I heard her just fine, Albus, I am simply curious as to her apparent nonchalance in admitting to intentionally attacking another student?"

"It wasn't intentional. She upset me and I had an accidental outburst of magic. Something I was told happens quite often," Kaelix said, the truth of it sliding off her tongue with ease.

"Did you cast the spell on purpose or not?" another man demanded.

"Did I want to slap her across the face? Yes. Did I mean to throw her backward into a brick wall? No."

"So you lost control of your magic," Fudge said.

"I-"

"That wasn't a question. You were in the Hospital Wing for several days following the incident, were you not?

"One day."

"Why?" he pressed, keen on her answer.

"A cold."

"Was that related to the incident in Hogsmeade?"

"Was my cold related to a fight I had with another student? No."

"No?" he questioned.

"No," she repeated firmly.

"There is no connection between your squabble, as you call it, and you ending up in the Hospital Wing the very same day? It is purely a coincidence?"

"That is what I said."

"Very well, Miss Williams, I have only one more incident I'd like to ask you about before moving to the practical portion of this inquiry. You were present in the Shrieking Shack the night that Sirius Black tried to kidnap and kill Harry Potter?"

She blinked. _Idiots_. "Sure," she said.

"Sure?"

"I was there."

"Why were you there?"

"Black grabbed Weasley, Potter and Hermione ran after him, and Re-" her voice broke. "Professor Lupin ran after them. I just wanted to help."

"You saw Harry Potter running after Black?"

"Yes."

"Why would he do that?"

Kaelix pinched the bridge of her nose. "Because he's an idiot."

"What?"

"Black grabbed his friend and Potter was stupid enough to run after him instead of go for help."

"And then you ran after both of them?"

"Technically I ran after Professor Lupin."

"And at any point during the events of that night, did Sirius Black try to convince you to go with him?"

She did a double take, "I'm sorry?"

Fudge leaned forward and spoke a little louder as if she were the one with the hearing problem, "At any point during the events of that night did Sirius Black ask you to join him and help him escape?"

Stark raving mad, the whole lot of them. But at least she didn't have to lie.

"No, he didn't."

"That night was the third time that you'd come face to face with Black, correct?"

Her brow furrowed. "Yes."

"And all three times he never hurt you?"

"Never even tried."

"And why do you think that is, Miss Williams?"

Kaelix adjusted in her seat, the small metal chair somehow less comfortable than the stone slabs of the prison. "Because he had no reason to?" She gave half a shrug.

"How can you be certain?"

"Well, I assume if he had had a reason to hurt me then he would have."

"So we're just to assume that he let the only person who saw him break into the castle on Halloween, just… walk away? Because to an outsider that may appear as though you were working with him."

Her thoughts short circuited and for a moment she was at a complete loss. They were most certainly trying to catch her in a lie, or get her to admit some kind of guilt about _something_. But she was entirely perplexed as to what that might be.

"I don't know what Black was thinking that night, or any other for that matter. I know what he told us that night in the Shrieking Shack, about Pettigrew being alive, but that's it. Maybe Azkaban drove him mad or maybe he has something against attacking children. But I definitely was not working with him and certainly don't ever want to."

Fudge looked skeptical, "You're certain that he never tried to persuade you to… join him?"

"To join him for what, book club?"

Her question was met with silence. No one even seemed to breathe until Kingsley chuckled softly from the corner where he sat. She glanced over and saw a twinkle in the Old Man's eye as well. Fudge glared at Kingsley, and Umbridge was pursing her lips in disapproval. But there were several panel members she could tell were suppressing small grins of amusement. Kaelix took a long blink, wishing for all of this to end.

"Is this a joke to you, Miss Williams?" Fudge asked tersely.

"No, sir," she said flatly, "jokes are amusing."

His jaw clenched several times, "Miss Williams, were you in any way involved in Sirius Black's escape from Hogwarts?"

She hesitated, feeling the truth well up within her and trying to find some way around telling them about the time travel adventure they'd all gone on. It wasn't as though she could just admit she helped him. Or maybe she could.

"I guess I was, yeah."

His eyes lit up and then quickly narrowed in suspicion. Several of the others who attention had been waning, snapped back at her answer.

"Are you admitting on the record that you had something to do with Black escaping custody that night?"

"Yeah, I suppose you could say it was entirely my fault actually."

"You suppose?" he said, irritation returning to his voice.

"Well, if I hadn't saved him from the dementors while I was saving Potter, then I guess they would have taken his soul right then. And if they'd taken his soul right then he never would have been able to escape later on. So, technically speaking, you could blame it all on me. But in my defense, I was trying to keep Potter and myself alive."

Fudge's smile faltered entirely and he deflated a bit in his chair. "Indeed." He scratched a few things out on the parchment in front of him rather aggressively. "That concludes the question portion of this-"

" _Hem hem._ "

The sound grated through Kaelix.

"Yes, Dolores, did you have anything to add?" Fudge asked.

"I have just a question or two, Minister, if you don't mind of course," she smiled sweetly and Kaelix knew it wouldn't have mattered whether Fudge minded or not, she was asking whatever she liked.

"Of course not," he gestured for her to continue.

Umbridge turned that overly sweet wolfish grin on Kaelix, who met it without emotion.

"Why, my dear child," Kaelix's gut churned, the feeling of impending vomit returning, "were you not in attendance for your first or second year at Hogwarts?" she asked.

Kaelix's brow furrowed and she didn't answer immediately. She glanced sideways at Dumbledore briefly recalling when she'd asked him about the very same thing.

"Are you looking to him for instructions on how to answer?" Umbridge asked, a note of malice barely detectable in her voice.

Kaelix met her fake sweet gaze, "No, I just don't understand what my attendance record has to do with any of this."

Her smile somehow got sweeter and she seemed almost satisfied by Kaelix's answer. "My dear, the implications of your attendance, or lack thereof, are far too vast for someone of your age to possibly understand. You don't need to understand the questions that are being asked, the only thing you need to do, is answer them honestly."

If Kaelix hadn't already had a reason to hate this woman, her patronizing tone would have done the trick.

"I never received my letter. I was told there was a malfunction in the delivery system that year."

"And do you have any idea what caused this malfunction, as you call it?" Umbridge asked.

"No idea."

She was still exhibiting that perpetually sweet smile and Kaelix was beginning to wonder if her face was stuck that way, "I just have one more question. I apologize for the delay, Minister, but I do believe it's important." He waved her on. "Do you remember where you were the night of the 27th of August, 1987?"

She nearly scoffed, "I have no idea."

"No?" there was something resembling amusement in her voice.

Kaelix shook her head, "No, I don't."

"My dear, are you certain that you don't remember anything… significant happening on that particular day?"

Annoyed, Kaelix thought back. 1987 was at least seven years ago, which meant she would have been seven, which meant she would have been living with- Oh, oh- Something bubbled up rapidly from deep within her. She knew exactly where she must have been that night. Not because she actually remembered the date, but because it was the only thing they would know about, the only thing they'd be interested in. And they had no damn right to be. They had no right to use this, to use _him_ to serve their agenda. Then her anger ebbed, it didn't matter, what did any of it matter?

"There we are, you remember now, don't you?"

Kaelix looked up at her from a lowered brow but she did not answer.

Umbridge looked satisfied with herself. "That was the night of the fire that destroyed your home, wasn't it?"

Kaelix swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "It was."

"And the house wasn't the only thing that was destroyed, was it?"

"No."

"What else was lost in the fire?"

 _Bitch_. "Three people."

"Can you tell us what happened that night?"

"No."

"Miss Williams, let me rephrase, tell us what happened that night."

"I don't know."

That damn smile faltered a fraction of an inch, "You don't know?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean, I don't know what happened. There was yelling and shouting and the I woke up in a hospital bed and was told the house burned down."

"You don't know anything else about what happened?"

"No."

"Nothing about how the house caught fire-"

"No."

"-the entire thing burned to the ground-"

"No."

"-three people dead around you-"

"No."

"Dolores," Dumbledore warned.

"-you walked away without a single scratch-"

"I don't know anything about any of it," she said more desperately than she meant to sound. "I don't know how the fire started, I don't know how they all died and I survived, I don't know what happened. Okay? Do you think I haven't wondered about that everyday for the past seven years? Do you think it hasn't kept me awake at night wondering why me? I don't. Know."

The entire room was silent, the air shifted. She scanned the faces looming over her and recognized it immediately; pity. She might have been angry at them if she had felt anything at all.

"Did you or did you not attend several years of muggle therapy to deal with this traumatic experience?" Umbridge continued.

"I did."

"And at any point during those sessions, did you and your therapist discuss the possibility that you blamed yourself for the fire?"

"It was brought up once or twice."

"You disagree?"

"I was seven, I didn't know how to start a fire."

"But you had magic," she paused, letting her insinuation take it's time to sink in.

"I didn't use magic to start that fire," Kaelix snapped.

"You just said you didn't know what started the fire."

"I know it wasn't me."

"Then why does your boggart take the form of a boy being burned alive?"

There were several intakes of breath around the room.

Kaelix' a stomach dropped, "How do you even know-"

"It's my job to know these things, Miss Williams. How can you be so sure that you weren't the one to start the fire when you said yourself only moments ago that you didn't know how it started, and your boggart would suggest that you're very much afraid of watching a boy burn to death?"

"I didn't start that fire."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I would know, I would remember using magic."

"That seems to be the only thing that you're sure of," she looked too pleased with herself. Kaelix opened her mouth to retort but Umbridge was already turning to Fudge, "I'm quite finished, Minister, I'm sure the practical demonstration will be most, enlightening," she said with a wicked smile.

Kaelix was too tired to put any of this together, to suss out what that god-awful woman's angle was. What did it matter if Kaelix had accidentally started the fire? She didn't, she knew she didn't, but what would it prove if she had? That she could do magic? That wasn't exactly a secret.

"Very well, we'll be moving onto the practical demonstration now. Albums, we must ask you to leave as we discussed."

He was already rising from his seat before Fudge could finish the sentence. As he crossed the room he said, "I trust that you all will remember that despite her age, Kaelix has only completed one year of instruction at Hogwarts, covering three years of material. As such, she shouldn't be expected to perform anything more advanced than a third year."

"And you'll do well to remember who is in charge of this inquiry, Dumbledore," Fudge said.

But Dumbledore had already exited the room, the door falling softly closed behind him. Kingsley stepped forward and held out a slender, dark piece of wood.

Her wand.

She didn't miss the twinkle in his eye as he passed it to her.

"Miss Williams, we ask that you remain seated and only perform the series of basic spells as we prompt them, without any form of assistance. Is that understood?"

She nodded.

"Please answer verbally for the court scribe."

"Yes, I understand."

"Good, let us begin. Please perform a standard lumos charm."

She adjusted herself in her seat, her back was aching from sitting in the uncomfortable chair for so long. The chains clicked threateningly at her movement, she glanced at them with little more than indifference. She focused on the tip of her wand and for one off kilter moment the idea of magic felt foreign to her again. Her mind warped the idea of Hogwarts into an elaborate dream that had felt real, but one that she had woken up from long ago. For a moment, she was convinced that no matter what spell she uttered, nothing would happen.

But that familiar warmth hovered at the edge of her awareness, the magic. She didn't need much for something as simple as a lumos charm. Just a quick flick of her wand and-

" _Lumos_."

Light burst from the tip of her wand, strong and bright, creating an off putting underlight to all the faces looming over her.

"That will do," said Fudge.

" _Nox,_ " she said quietly, and the light extinguished itself.

"Turn this matchstick," Fudge flicked his own wand and one appeared, floating in front of her, "into a needle."

Kaelix angled her wand for the spell, cut the tip through the air, " _Ferriforis,_ " she said

Nothing happened.

The match remained a match. Fudge's eyebrows rose. He cleared his throat but Kaelix was already tugging on the magic, pulling a bit more into herself.

" _Ferriforis_ ," she said again, more forcefully this time.

The matchstick was gone, in its place floated a perfectly formed needle.

It flew up to Fudge who examined it for a moment before waving it away with his wand. He looked displeased, but the horrid woman to his right looked like acat with a canary. What could possibly have pleased her so much about such a simple transfiguration spell?

A sharp flick of Fudge's wand and the needle was gone. A small brass pocket watch appeared in front of Kaelix.

"Transfigure this into a bird," he ordered.

She pictured a bird in her mind's eye, and racked her brain for the correct spell. It wasn't as if she'd been using these with any frequency over the last however long she'd been away. The haziness in her brain hadn't fully subsided, and the memory wasn't something she was keen to re-live either. She raised her wand and mental went through the motion of the spell. The spell for birds. Birds. Aviary. Avifors.

She was a hair's breadth away from executing the spell when Kingsley loosed a rather aggressive sneeze. Everyone's attention turned to him.

"Pardon me, Minister," he said, dipping his head toward Fudge, but his gaze flickered to Kaelix, "I didn't mean to interrupt your focus, Miss, my apologies."

"No need, Kingsley." Fudge said with a tight nod. "Carry on, Miss Williams."

Her gaze lingered on Kingsley and the subtle way he'd emphasized the word focus. Had it been her imagination? She turned back to the watch in front of her, she needed to turn it into a bird. _Focus_. She closed her eyes and conjured up that image in her mind of the bird, picturing the details of it's feathers, the colors of the wings. She reached out for the magic around her, it was strong and concentrated and… her eyes snapped open when she realized it. Dumbledore had given her one set of instructions and Kingsley had known she'd forgotten them. But he'd found a way to remind her.

She cursed her own absentmindedness, took a deep breath, and focused entirely on him and the spell. She lifted her wand, her eyes gazing past the watch using only her peripherals to aim her wand, she felt the magic seep into her, warming her.

" _Avifors,_ " she said, slashing her wand.

A near blinding jet of blue light shot out of the end of her wand and swirled around the pocket watch. It was quickly engulfed in blue smoke and sparks. As the smoke dissipated, an auburn blur darted across the room, chirping as it went. It landed on the far end of the lowest bench, far from the closest person. It's head cocked and it sang a few notes while examining the room.

Umbridge and Fudge looked further displeased, but most of the other members of the board looked mildly impressed, if not bored. The bird vanished in a puff of gray smoke.

"Something a little more challenging then, I think," said Fudge.

He ordered another spell, and then another, and another. On and on they went, through charms, transfigurations, defense spells and more. The whole time, she kept her focus on the spells themselves, and on Kingsley. Fudge and Umbridge grew more and more displeased with each spell. Until Kaelix thought they must have done nearly every spell she'd ever learned, and then-

"Please perform a patronus charm," came that pitched, grating voice to Fudge's left.

 _They must be joking_ , she thought. She didn't know much but she knew that was more than a third year level spell.

"That one is a bit beyond my skills," she said. "Professor Dumbledore said I only-"

"Professor Dumbledore may be in charge of your education, but he is not the authority in this courtroom. The patronus charm, Miss Williams, or you will fail the practical portion of this inquiry," she threatened, though the way Fudge blanched at her words, Kaelix doubted she had the authority to make such threats.

 _Fine,_ she thought, _you want a patronus. Fine._

She straightened her spine, clenched her wand, focused on Kingsley, and reached for a happy memory to fuel the charm. But she had a difficult time recalling anything resembling happiness. She rifled through her thoughts, trying to remember what she'd used that night at the lake. But even as she recalled the memory, the joy of it eluded her. She pulled on the warm string of magic as hard as she could, focusing on that memory that had worked well enough before. But she knew it wasn't enough this time.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " she shouted, but the force of it wasn't there.

A small silver light burst from the tip of her wand, bright in its own right but feeble within the size of the room; a firefly against a starless sky. It fizzled out in seconds.

"My child, how did you manage to fight off the dementors at Hogwarts with that?" asked Umbridge.

"It was stronger before," said Kaelix.

"Then show us," Umbridge ordered.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Umbridge's voice was sharp.

"Can't," Kaelix said clearly. "Kind of like I can't lie right now, so it has to be true, right?"

Umbridge's eyes narrowed but she didn't acknowledge Kaelix's question. "How did you learn to perform the patronus charm? Especially considering you've only received the equivalent of three years magical training and that spell is at the very least, a fifth year level spell."

"Professor Lupin was tutoring both Potter and myself, Potter was learning the patronus charm. Occasionally our lessons overlapped."

"Ah, yes, Remus Lupin."

Kaelix didn't like the sound of his name coming off her lips but she remained silent.

"Unfortunate, that his… condition remained unknown to us for so long. We might have prevented the tragedy that was Black's escape. It's cases like his that demonstrate why we need to monitor these creatures more carefully."

The word echoed through Kaelix's mind as Umbridge stared her down. She knew it was a dare, knew it was meant as a needle in her side, to stoke the fire of her temper into an uproar, an outrage, an outburst. It wasn't perfectly clear, the connections and details still weren't aligning. But that's what they were asking about the most, her accidental magic.

"I suppose in a way we ought to be thanking him," she continued. "After that incident surely we'll be able to keep a closer watch on his kind. A blessing in disguise I suppose."

"Is there another spell?" Kaelix asked.

"Oh, no, I'm quite finished." Though her eyes suggested otherwise.

"Does anyone else have any questions before we deliberate?" asked Fudge. No one spoke and a few heads shook in response. "Very well, it's time for our deliberation then."

He waved his wand and the room rippled before her. Their mouths were moving but she couldn't hear anything; a sound wall, clever. Fudge was speaking sharply to the rest of them and Umbridge inserted a comment here and there. Another wizard spoke for a few moments and whatever he was saying only deepened the frown on Fudge's face. A witch over to the right talked animatedly for a brief moment, gesticulating wildly as she went. Umbridge intervened. Weasley's brother was scribbling furiously and Kaelix wondered why he didn't just magic the quill into taking notes on its own. THe wizard on the left spoke up, Fudge cut in, the witch on the far left end rebutting him.

Back and forth and around they went. All the while Kaelix watched as best she could but was nearly impossible to follow without hearing them. One thing was obvious though, Fudge's frown deepened by the minute and she was taking that as a good sign.

After several more minutes of silent, at least on her end, discussion, there seemed to be some consensus of nodding along the panel. Fudge waved the sound wall away and looked down on her from that top row. He looked like he was about to choke.

"You're free to go."

The chair shackles that had been clicking intimidatingly at her since she first entered the room, fell to the ground at his words. Relief should have washed over her but all she was left with was the twisting in the pit of her stomach.

The inquiry panel members were rising from their seats and dispersing. Kingsley gestured to the door and she followed him out of the room. She shouldn't have been surprised to see him waiting for her but somehow that knowing smile still caught her a bit off guard. She didn't say a word, she didn't have to, they never would have let her walk out if they weren't letting her go.

"Thank you, Kingsley, I will take her from here," said Dumbledore.

Kingsley nodded and disappeared through a side door but not without a wink in her direction. Kaelix felt the sudden rush of a wave rising up to engulf her. Her hands trembled and she had the overwhelming desire to hug the Old Man. She opened her mouth but no words came.

"I'm sure you have several questions," he said, starting down the corridor.

Kaelix fell into step beside him, trying to shake off the emotions swirling around her.

"I'm afraid I don't have any time to answer them here. However, once you get settled in we can have a chat. I'll leave you in Arthur's capable hands, he'll take you home so you can rest."

He escorted her back upstairs to the Atrium and introduced her to Arther, who she quickly learned was Weasley's father and the source of the families striking red hair.

"Good to meet you, Kaelix," he said, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "I'm Arthur, you'll know my son, Ron, he's in your year. Sorry I'm a bit late, got er- caught up in a few things," he added to Dumbledore.

"Not a problem, Arthur, but I really must be going now. I'll see you soon, Kaelix. Safe travels." With that, he disappeared back into the lift.

"Molly will be thrilled," Arthur started, "don't get me wrong, she loves her boys, and Harry of course, but it'll be nice to have another girl around. I'm sure Ginny and Hermione will appreciate it, not be so outnumbered… right, well, shall we get going then?" he gestured for her to follow.

* * *

As they slammed to the ground unceremoniously and Kaelix stumbled, nearly retching up her stomach itself, she decided that travelling via portkeys was her least favorite thing to do.

"Here we are," he said, digging into his pocket. "Read this."

The small bit of parchment that he held out to her contained a note written in small neat script: _The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London_. As soon as her eyes reached the end of the sentence, the parchment burned itself up. Kaelix looked up to the buildings in front of her. Number eleven on the left and number thirteen on the right, with hardly the space to stand between them, let alone for an entire house. But then right before her eyes, a tattered old door popped up, followed quickly by walls that pushed out and expanded. The void between the houses was filled and the new house kept going, pushing those on either side of it out of the way.

"Hurry on up now." Mr. Weasley ushered her up the steps.

The door was shabby and scratched, flecks of black paint peeling off. The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Kaelix heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Don't go too far inside, and try not to touch anything," he warned in a low whisper.

Kaelix stepped into nearly total darkness. It smelled damp, dusty, and rotting; it felt like death and neglect.

"Well, here we are," Mr. Weasley said quietly, as if the house were a sleeping newborn he was trying desperately not to disturb. "It's best if you're quiet in the hallway, so as not to wake anything up. I'm afraid I've got to get back to the Ministry. Sirius is here somewhere, he can show you to your room. I'll see you later, I'm sure."

Before she could utter a reply he was out the door and closing it behind him.

She glanced around the entry hall once more, what was there to wake up? Her eyes were drawn to a set of moth-eaten velvet curtains that seemed to drift in a light breeze that didn't exist. She stepped forward, wondering what they were covering. What was hiding in the middle of an entry hallway? Drawn forward, she reached out a hand, and after a split second of indecision, grabbed the curtain and pulled. There was no door or window hidden behind the curtains, nothing to create the phantom breeze she'd seen only a moment ago.

The only thing behind the curtains was a painting of an old woman. She was wearing a black cap and a disapproving scowl. She stared Kaelix down for another moment and then released a blood curdling scream. She screamed and screamed as though she was being tortured and Kaelix clamped her hands down over her ears, stumbling back a step with a swear. The woman had gone rabid, she was drooling, her eyes rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall, the other portraits awoke and began to yell too.

Moments later Black burst through the door, darting over to the crude painting and grabbing hold of the curtains. He struggled with them but they wouldn't close and the woman screeched louder than ever. Threatening them, as though she could claw her way right out of the painting and come after them.

" _Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers -"_

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, tugging again on the curtains.

" _You! You blood traitor! Filth of my flesh! Abomination! Shame of the entire line -"_

"I said - shut - UP!" roared Black, and with stupendous effort he managed to wrench the curtains closed.

The woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.

Breathing hard, he turned to face Kaelix with a gaze that was still haunted from the many years he'd spent in the same prison she'd just left.

He turns and gestures for her to follow. She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he poured himself a glass of firewhiskey.

"You look like hell," he said, taking a swig of his whiskey.

"I just got out of Azkaban," she said, looking him up and down and noting that other than his frame being a bit fuller, he wasn't in much better shape than the last time she'd seen him. "What's your excuse?"

"Being cooped up in this house while everyone else comes and goes as they damn well please, leaving me with only the decrepit old elf for company. You don't get out much when most of the wizarding world still thinks you're a murderer."

Kaelix looked around the gloomy kitchen, no windows,

"I see Arthur's just dropped you and left, like you're some parcel an owl's delivered. Didn't even stay long enough to say hello," he said, taking another swig.

"I can't imagine why."

"It's rude to insult your host, you know."

"It's rude to let your guests be ambushed by a portrait of an unhinged woman." She drew her arms across her chest.

"That unhinged woman is my mother," he frowned.

"That sure explains a lot."

"I'll admit I may be a bit unhinged but I'm much more pleasant company than dear old mum up there."

"Have you ever been told that by anyone other than your own reflection?"

"Have you ever been told that you have a smart mouth?"

She ran out of energy to respond. He scrutinized her for a moment before turning to rifle through the fridge.

"Here, you should eat," he grunted, pushing a plate of food over to her.

"I'm not hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry," now he was rifling through a cabinet. "You should drink this too and then get some rest." He held a goblet out for her.

She sniffed at the potion it contained, "I don't need any help sleeping."

"Identified it just from the smell, eh? No wonder you're Snape's little pet," he sneered.

She remained silent, not even a hint of amusement flickering across her features.

His sneer faded, he set the goblet down next to the plate of food and said quietly, "First night without the dementors. Your own mind is far worse than anything they can make you relive. Trust me." He turned to leave the room but stopped before he made it out. "If you're going to be stubborn about it then don't try to sleep until at least six."

"Why?" she asked apathetically.

"If your experience in that hellhole was anything like mine then you have no idea what time it is and it wouldn't mean anything to you even if you did. It's only two in the afternoon. If you try to sleep now, and you should, that potion will put you out until the morning, but without it you'll be awake again by midnight, if you make it that long. So, if you're going to be stubborn about it and not drink the potion, then I suggest not lying down until this evening. And if you're anything like me, you're stubborn. Third room at the top of the stairs, there's a change of clothes for you too." With that he left the room.

She stared into the murkiness of the potion and her stomach churned at the thought of drinking it. The sloppy plate of food didn't look any more appealing. She pushed away from the table, deciding she'd eat after a nap. Making her way upstairs she wondered how long she'd be staying here and where exactly here even was.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror before she laid down; Black was right, she thought, she did look like hell. She made a face at her own reflection because she didn't want Black to be right about anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much for joining me for another chapter, hope you enjoyed this one. I'd love to hear what you thought of it in a comment if you have a moment to spare. Stay safe, until next time!


	3. Ultimatum

**Chapter 3: Ultimatum**

Kaelix jolted awake and it took her a moment to recognize the sound of rapping on the bedroom door. Rapping wasn’t a sound that existed in Azkaban. Her bleary eyes blinked open to a room that also didn’t exist in Azkaban, and her still half sleeping brain struggled to recall the events that had brought her here. It took an even longer moment to remember where ‘here’ was. She stretched her arms out and flexed her back, leaning her head against the frame of the window seat where she had finally managed to fall asleep at some ungodly hour of the early morning. Her eyes fluttered closed, the lull of sleep still strong in her tired body.

Rapping snapped her out of it again, assaulting her ears. The knocking lasted longer this time, quick sharp raps like a woodpecker at the door. She ignored him, knowing exactly who it must be on the other side of the door. Only one person was obnoxious enough to wake her up so early after having told her to get a good night’s sleep.

More sharp rapping, she felt each impact as if it were right against her temple.

“Kaelix?” he called through the door.

What could he possibly need at this hour? She wouldn’t indulge him.

“Kaelix, it’s past noon, I’m going to need some sort of sign of life here.”

Past noon? She squinted out the window, noting now how short the shadows were, indicating the sun was indeed high in the sky. Although the view out the window was an illusion anyway, so really it could be whatever time of day it wanted.

“If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there and check for myself, and I’m sure if we can agree on one thing it’s that we’d both rather I didn’t-”

“Got to hell,” she said, her voice cracking a bit.

“No thanks. There’s food out here, you should eat something, if only so they can’t say I starved you to death.”

His footsteps faded away down the stairs.

Kaelix sighed, her eyes fell closed, and within seconds she’d fallen back to sleep.

* * *

When Kaelix woke again the scenery outside the window had darkened and it was well into the evening by the look of it. She’d slept for hours without a single dream. _Nightmares my ass_ , she thought. She unfolded from where she’d perched herself in the window seat and slowly stretched out her stiff muscles and joints. More than one pop sounded at the effort. In hindsight, the window seat probably wasn’t the best sleeping option. Not much worse than the floor of the cell she’d spent countless nights sleeping on, which was probably why she wasn’t more sore from the window.

The thought of leaving the room for the rest of the house wasn’t terribly appealing, especially considering the company she was likely to run into. But her bladder didn’t care. She nearly tripped over the tray of food that Black had left in the corridor just outside the door. It was a mound of food, far too much for anyone to eat in one sitting. The smell of most of it turned her stomach, but she took a chunk of bread from the load provided, figuring she could nibble on that without upsetting her stomach any more.

Voices drifted up the stairs as she made her way down them. Following the sound led her through a doorway to the left and she realized that it was actually only one voice. Across the room, kneeling in front of the fireplace, was Black. His head was _in_ the roaring fire. Kaelix didn’t know which thought to entertain first, was Black trying to burn his face off? Did he frequently crawl around his house on hands and knees? Could she make it across the room to kick him fully into the fireplace before he noticed? The possibilities really were endless, and he seemed too wrapped up in his conversation with the coals to pay her any mind.

“Yes, but the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters,” he said. “I know she’s a nasty piece of work, though- you should hear Remus talk about her.”

Kaelix ripped a smaller piece off of her hunk of bread and nibbled at the edge of it.

“No,” said Black after a short pause, “but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job.”

Umbridge. A flicker of anger rippled through her veins.

“Scared of them, I expect,” said Black, answering a question from the silent half of the conversation. “Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose-” he stopped abruptly, like he’d been cut off.

Kaelix moved to see if she could see the person on the other side of the fireplace-telephone conversation, but it didn’t seem to work that way no matter what angle she took. There was a loud crashing noise as she bumped an end table and a lamp fell to the floor. Black glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Oh, look who’s finally risen from the dead,” he said cheekily. Turning back to face the fire he said, “No, it’s just Kaelix. So what are Umbridge’s- What?” A pause. “Yes, she just arrived today, well, yesterday physically. I’m not entirely convinced she’s mentally here yet.”

Her brow furrowed and she made a face at his back.

“I don’t know, Dumbledore’s been pretty quiet about the whole thing. But she’s here now so I get to play babysitter.”

She rolled her eyes, some babysitter he was. There were only so many people Black would be talking to who would ask about her, which only meant one thing: Potter. She mentally side-stepped the thought and left the room, Black could fix the lamp himself. She crossed back through the entryway to the kitchen, careful not to disturb the curtains draped over the sleeping portrait of Mrs. Black. After rooting around to find a glass, she sat at the counter, nibbling her bread and sipping her water.

Potter now knew where she was, because he presumably knew where Black was. The thought might have annoyed her if she felt inclined to care about anything these days. Neither Potter nor Black seemed to know how Dumbledore had managed to get her out of prison, though the Old Man was always a bit tight lipped so that wasn’t surprising. She’d been present for the whole getting out of prison process and still didn’t understand what had happened. There was the superficial Inquiry, as they’d called it, but it wasn’t difficult to see it for the charade that it was. What laid beyond the charade, she still didn’t know.

The kitchen door swung open and she didn’t have to look to know it was Black. She was certain that they were the only two in the entire house. A different sort of torture than Azkaban.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he said with a taunting smirk.

She didn’t respond, instead taking another small bite of her bread.

“I noticed that you left the potion untouched yesterday, and the meal I prepared for you. Seems to have worked wonderfully, seeing as you’re just crawling out of bed at the prime hour of eleven in the evening,” he said.

She swallowed her bread and followed with a sip of water.

Black moved to the refrigerator. “Nothing else on the plate was appealing to you, I see. Nothing I do is ever appreciated around here.”

Kaelix covered her mouth as she loosed a wide yawn, ignoring his self pity.

“You’re an astounding conversationalist, you know. The only visitor I’ve had since the start of term and it’s like I’m still alone.”

“If I’d known they were dumping me with you, I would have stayed in Azkaban,” she said flatly.

He let out a bark of laughter, “We both know that’s not true.”

“Yeah,” she said, “at least the dementors were quiet while they were sucking out my soul.”

The ghost of laughter in his expression fell away and a blank look replaced it. Kaelix hopped up from her seat and crossed the room.

“Don’t do that,” he said to her back.

She paused with her hand on the door, “Do what?”

“Dumbledore went to a lot of effort to get you out of Azkaban. Don’t waste it all by staying there.”

Kaelix left without another word.

The next few days passed much the same as the first two. Kaelix kept to herself, staring out her fake window, or wandering the house, carefully avoiding Black as much as she possibly could. She heard him puttering around the house while she stayed in the room, occasionally shouting at what she assumed to be the old house elf he’d griped about on that first day. No one else had so much as dropped by in the days following her arrival, and the more days that passed, the louder Black’s stomping about the house became. The man couldn’t sit still.

Despite her success sleeping that initial day, she’d been struggling ever since. The noises were different here. She still wasn’t sure how long she’d been in Azkaban, despite knowing it was September, she still didn’t know _which_ September. However long it had been, it was long enough that she’d grown accustomed to the ever present screaming and weeping. The silence of this house at night echoed painfully through her mind, somehow louder than the residents of the prison. When she did sleep… she would never admit that Black had been right, because he wasn’t, but he hadn’t been entirely wrong either. Her dreams were less than pleasant. It didn’t help that her sleep schedule refused to normalize, due in no small part to her stubborn refusal to drink the potions Black left outside her door.

Kaelix wasn’t sure how many days had passed since she’d arrived, five? Seven? Everything blended together. Maybe she was wrong in her assumption that she would be going back to Hogwarts, maybe they didn’t let you back in after you’d been arrested and carted off to Azkaban. But still, she had expected _someone_ to show up, she had expected someone to take her somewhere, to tell her something, anything. But days kept coming and going, passing without meaning. It was as if her passive existence had simply been transferred from one hell hole to another. Sure, there were no dementors here, but this house didn’t need them.

She hardly left the room she was occupying but during one trip to the kitchen for water she was drawn to a room down the opposite hall. There was a massive tapestry hanging on one of the walls. It looked old, really old, like older than dirt old. Time had faded the tapestry and it looked as though something with small teeth had gnawed it in more than one place. Regardless of the bite marks, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show a sprawling family tree dating back to what looked like the Middle Ages. There were large words across the top that read:

**The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black**

**“Toujours Pur”**

Black’s entire family history was laid out right before her eyes, now it was a wonder the thing wasn’t bigger. Her eyes scanned the tree near the bottom and found that Black wasn’t on the tree, at least not anymore. There, just above his name _Sirius Black_ , was a small, round, aged burn mark that went straight through the tapestry. He’d been scorched right out of the family. No wonder he hated it here. He wasn’t just cooped up in a decaying house, he was cooped up in a house that was a constant reminder of a family who disowned him.

Next to Black’s name she saw that he had a brother, _Regulus Black,_ who had not been burned out of the family. But the dates beneath his name revealed that he had met an untimely end, years ago. She followed the branches back up and found the name of their mother, _Walburga Black_. The horrible woman in the portrait downstairs, also passed away some years ago.

 _Pity_ , Kaelix thought.

She explored more of the tapestry, tracing lines up and up, noting that Black was not the first in his line nor the second to bear his given name. The branches wound around and through each other, intertwining, and Kaelix didn’t miss the subtle ways that some marriages were made between relatives. Distant ones, but still. As she moved down to the far right, she saw the first name apart from Black’s that she recognized and the pit of her stomach tightened. _Lucius Malfoy._ Malfoy.

She dropped her gaze to the single name that stemmed from the connection between Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black. _Draco Malfoy_. She traced the lines and curves of his name with her eyes.

“You don’t look like you’ve been getting any of your beauty sleep,” Black said from the doorway.

“Neither do you,” she said without looking at him.

“Nice to see your mood has improved since we last spoke.”

She didn’t respond, her eyes were still fixed on the tapestry, noting that his June birthday put him just a few months older than her.

“Something interesting caught your eye?” he asked, shoving off the door frame and moving into the room.

She sidestepped as casually as possible, as much to avoid being caught as to avoid standing so close to him. They had mostly been avoiding each other, well she had been avoiding him. He however, seemed so desperate for someone, anyone to talk to that he came to check ‘for signs of life’ at least once a day. He stood where she had just been, settling on Malfoy’s name. She fought the heat rising in her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why getting caught staring at Malfoy’s name felt like she was breaking an unspoken rule, but something told her that Black’s opinion of Malfoy was likely closer to Potter’s than it was to hers.

“Subtle, but not subtle enough.” He gestured to the tapestry. “Harry mentioned that you tried to befriend the Malfoy boy.”

There was a note of something in his voice and she couldn’t tell whether it was condiscention or pity. Either way she didn’t like it.

“He also mentioned that it didn’t take.”

Definitely condescension then. Of course Potter had filled him in on everything he knew. The pair of them were probably insufferable together.

“Said he warned you that it wouldn’t,” Black continued, “and by the end of the year you weren’t speaking to the Malfoy boy anymore.”

“Do you have a point?” she asked with a sigh.

“My point is Harry’s right, you can’t be friends with a Slytherin. They’ll stab you in the back while shaking your hand and then say you’re the one that brought the knife.”

“Thank you for the life lesson, oh wise one.” She turned to leave.

“You should eat something before you shut yourself up in that room again,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat whether you’re hungry or not, you can’t survive on bitterness alone. I should know, I’ve tried.”

“I’m not bitter.” With more energy she would have snapped at him.

“I can see it in your eyes,” he said.

“Then you’re delusional,” she said.

“And you’re in denial, that’s an excellent stage,” he smirked and she didn’t like the effect it had.

She scoffed and shook her head.

“Look, I don’t particularly care if you want to starve yourself to death but could you at least wait until someone else shows up so they don’t blame me for it?”

“You’re such a selfish ass.”

“I can’t believe you would say that to my face, and in my own house no less,” he said.

“Then turn around,” she snapped.

His eyes narrowed, “Maybe you do have what it takes to befriend a Slytherin. Or perhaps to be one.”

Her blood was pumping now. “Why are you all so damn preoccupied with the arbitrary house assignment by an enchanted old tattered hat? Why do you pretend to be so much better for something so superficial?”

“It’s not superficial. It’s a reflection of your character,” he said.

She drew her arms across her chest. “Why would you call Remus part-human?”

He was taken aback, “When did I ever-”

“When you were in the fireplace with Potter,” she said.

“How did you know who-” he started.

“He asks too many questions and you don’t have many friends,” she said dismissively. “You said Umbridge loathes part-humans, including werewolves, including Remus. Why would you call him that?”

He scrutinized her a moment before replying, “He is part-human.”

“Funny, I thought you were supposed to be his friend.”

“I am his friend,” Black said slowly.

“I wouldn’t use the term part-human to describe a friend of mine.”

“I don’t mean anything by it, it’s just what he is.”

“Just? He isn’t _just_ anything, least of all _part-human_.”

“He is part-human, there’s no use in pussy-footing around that fact-”

“I didn’t say it should be pussy-footed around. But I don’t think you should be using the same term as someone who views him as sub-human.”

He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, he’s a werewolf either way.”

“Muggleborn, mudblood, what’s the difference? Either way they’re not a pureblood, right?” she said.

He shook his head and ran a hand over his stubble of a beard. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she snapped.

“The term mudblood is predicated on the idea that muggle blood is dirty, unworthy, less than other wizards-”

She cut into his words, “And the term part-human is predicated on the idea that being a werewolf steals away part of your humanity, that it makes you diseased, unworthy, _less than other humans_. She’s using the term part-human to justify persecuting him and you’re validating her cause by using it yourself.”

She moved for the door again.

“I’m not validating anything, it’s just words,” he said.

“Yeah? Does Remus think it’s ‘just words’ too or do you only call him that when he’s not around?” She slammed the door behind her as she left.

* * *

Kaelix stayed clear of Black for the next few days. Still, no one else came by the house, not even briefly, to provide any relief for Black or further instruction for her. Black had stopped tapping on her door to check for signs of life after their last conversation. A few days later she opened her bedroom door to find the tray he’d been leaving for her was missing. Her stomach growled in protest. The first time she’d really been hungry since getting here and he’d taken the tray away? Asshole.

She found him downstairs in the kitchen, working on another bottle of firewhiskey.

“Oh, look who it is, the forlorn but not bitter princess has decided to bless me with her presence yet again,” he said by way of greeting.

“You took the tray.”

“Yes…?” he said slowly.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Why?” he repeated.

“Why did you take the tray from my room?”

A smug smirk appeared on his lips and it didn’t flatter him. “Aside from the fact that every room in this house is, in fact, mine. I didn’t take it from the room, I took it from the corridor.”

His insistence over the room ownership stung a bit and she couldn’t quite sort out why. She certainly didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted her here. But still, the reminder wasn’t necessary. She contemplated returning to her room and waiting a few hours until he left the kitchen to return for something to eat. She wasn’t that hungry, certainly not hungry enough to put up with him and his attitude.

“I didn’t think you would notice, since you never seem to be hungry.” He retrieved a plate and goblet from the refrigerator and set it down on the table before returning to his set at the opposite side. “I assume you came down here looking for food, but even if you were only looking to pick a fight with me you may as well eat and drink something while you’re here. If nothing else it will help with those bags under your eyes.”

She didn’t have the energy to snap back at his comment, she moved to the table and picked up a piece of bread.

“Some fresh air would do you good too.” He took another swig of the whiskey. “A little natural light to put the rosy back in your cheeks.”

She scoffed. “Says the man who looks like an actual corpse.”

“Just because I look like shit doesn’t mean you have to turn it into a competition. Not exactly something you should be aiming to win at.”

“It’s not like I can just go out for a stroll whenever I please,” she said, picking the cheese out of the sandwich.

“What, afraid I’ll lock you out?” He scratched at the ungroomed beard he’d let grow in. “Don’t worry, self preservation will overrule that desire.”

Her brow furrowed. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she could just go outside. It had been so long since she’d been able to do anything other than merely exist. The idea sent a shiver down her spine, along with another feeling that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. Discomfort? Some part of her didn’t like the idea of going out into the world.

Black stood, firewhiskey in hand and moved around the table. He paused briefly at the door to say, “The only prisoner of this house is me. No one is keeping you here,” and then he was gone.

Kaelix watched the door swing shut behind him. It couldn’t be as easy as that, could it? She washed down a few more bites of bread and cheese before returning the plate to the fridge. All the while replaying Black’s words in her mind. _No one is keeping you here… the only prisoner of this house is me._ A twinge of guilt hit the pit of her stomach. The whole of the wizarding world still thought he was a mass murderer. He may have broken free of Azkaban, may have been reunited with the few who knew and believed he was innocent. He wasn’t free. But she was.

She pushed off the counter, wringing her hands. Her chest tightened. But who would bat an eye if she just went for a quick walk outside, who would even notice? It wasn’t like it would change anything. She slipped into the entrance hall and chewed her lip. Facing the front door, she couldn’t seem to shake that impending feeling of wrongness that settled over her. Nothing bad would happen, she reasoned. But the feeling in her chest wouldn’t listen to reason. _Just do it,_ she thought, _just turn the knob, out the door, everything will be fine, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad will happen. Nothing. Bad. Will. Happen._

She reached for the knob with a trembling hand and even though part of her expected it not to turn, it did. The door swung open and struck by the sudden urge not to be caught here, she slipped outside and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could. When it clicked shut she immediately twisted the knob again, convinced that even self preservation might not be enough motivation to keep Black from locking her out. It was incredible how such a large house could feel so small with just the two of them in it. But the knob turned freely for her the first and second time she checked. Once she had convinced herself that she wasn’t locked out, she turned to face the street.

It was barren, almost eerily so, but her chest loosened slightly in the fresh air of the open street. She tentatively made her way down the front steps. It must have been mid afternoon, but she couldn’t be certain with the overcast sky. It only just now occurred to her that she had no idea whether she was still in London, or if Mr. Weasley had transported her farther away than that. Not that it really mattered where she was, so long as she didn’t get lost. Still not quite shaking the feeling that she was doing something wrong, she glanced up and down the street once more before setting off in the more welcoming direction.

A light breeze slipped through her thin sweater and she contemplated going back for something heavier. A glance over her shoulder revealed that the house had already disappeared, leaving Number Eleven and Number Thirteen right up next to each other again. She swore silently and hoped that Number Twelve would reappear when she returned. Tucking her arms in against herself, she set a brisker pace, figuring that would warm her up enough for now. Besides, she wasn’t wholly convinced being locked out was worse than being locked in.

She continued down the road, paying more attention to keeping warm than her surroundings. It took passing several cross streets to get her blood flowing and warm herself up. Though, her hands remained tightly tucked beneath her armpits.

After awhile she glanced back over her shoulder and realized she couldn’t even see the row of houses anymore. This was farther than she’d intended to walk and the sense of dread at breaking the rules was still present, but the thought of returning to that dark, stale house that smelled like death made her stomach roll. No one had come to the house in weeks, why should today be any different.

She walked on for a bit longer until a sharp squealing noise sent the hair at the back of her neck straight up, goosebumps rising on her arms. She blinked herself back to awareness and looked for the source of the noise. The block ahead of her held a small park. She hadn’t seen a park in years. She’d gone to a park only once since that night, it had been just after the Penburys adopted her. After the fit she threw upon arrival, their nanny had never tried to take her back again. But that had been years ago, things were different now. So different.

Her steps didn’t falter as she approached. There were several children running around the play structure, their cheeks rosy from the cold and running and the laughing. The laughing. She expected it to shake her very foundation, put her off balance, but it rang hollow, echoing through her like the ghost of a forgotten memory. She’d relived it too many times in Azkaban for it to hold any power over her here.

It was strange, taking a seat on a bench at the edge of the park, listening to sounds that were so familiar yet so distant. A lifetime stretched between her and those sounds. Nothing had changed and yet everything was different. She wondered still how different it would be if not for that one night, if not for that one mistake. Would she still be sitting here on this bench? Would she have ended up in Azkaban? Gone to Hogwarts? Would Austin have been there with her? Of course he would have, if there was ever anyone who belonged at a place like Hogwarts it was him. The boy who believed in magic before he knew it was real.

For a moment she let herself imagine him there with her. He would have tried out for the quidditch team as soon as they let him. If flying was its own subject it would have been his favorite. But he would have loved transfiguration and care of magical creatures. And hated potions, he wouldn’t have the patience for it. He would be in Gryffindor, because he was always braver than she was. She shook her head. Been. He would have _been_ in Gryffindor. He was gone and no amount of daydreaming or wishing would change that. She tucked her knees up to her chest and let her mind go blank. It was easier, letting her mind go blank, letting go of everything. It was easier than thinking and feeling and caring.

She sat there for some time, watching the children run around the playground with unseeing eyes. It wasn’t until some of the parents began collecting their children that she noticed the sky was starting to get darker. She blinked herself out of the daze she’d fallen into and slowly rose to stretch her stiff muscles. By the time she made it back to Number Twelve the sun had disappeared completely and it had started to drizzle. As she approached the small empty space between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen, that small bit of panic rose within her as the prospect of being locked out of the house became very real.

But as she approached the steps, that tattered old door popped up before her eyes again. The walls followed quickly after, pushing and expanding against Number Eleven and Number Thirteen. In an instant Number Twelve was there again, exactly as it had been before. She walked up the steps to the keyless door and sent a silent prayer to the universe that it would still be unlocked. She loosed a sigh when the knob turned and the door swung open freely. She stepped inside, shaking a bit of moisture off as she went. The staleness of the air hit her hard after being outside for so long. Realizing all over again just how much the house felt like death. Any appetite she thought she had was replaced with nausea.

Just as she moved to head upstairs, Black came into the entry from the living room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her but said nothing. She didn’t miss his eyes travelled around her face and clothes, he could see the dampness, and he wasn’t an idiot. Well, not that much of an idiot. He knew where she’d been. But even as she saw the knowing look he gave her, he didn’t threaten to lock her up, didn’t warn about the dangers of going out alone, didn’t ask where she’d been or what she’d been up to. In fact, he looked almost proud of her, like he approved of her leaving without asking permission first. And she liked him a little bit more for it. A little bit.

“Out and about twice in one day,” he said. “Should I be worried by this sudden change or honored by your presence?”

“There’s that charming personality,” she said. “And in this instance, charming means annoying.”

He smirked. “We both know I’m better company than the fake window in your bedroom.”

“You’re a cocky bastard. Doesn’t make for very good company.”

“And you’re a rude house guest.”

“Maybe I’d be a better guest if I had a better host.”

He put a hand to his heart in mock offense, “I’m a wonderful host.”

Kaelix ran a hand through her hair to shake some moisture laden tangles loose. “That’s not even an exaggeration, it’s straight up fiction.”

“What have I done to make you such pleasant company?”

She shrugged, “Mostly I just don’t like you.”

He leaned against the door frame. “You don’t know me well enough to dislike me.”

Did he have to be so damn arrogant?

“I know you sent a teenage boy to his death without a second thought, that’s plenty of reason for me.”

“When you say it like that…” He silently weighed her point for a moment before countering, “But it was only Snape.”

“It doesn’t matter who it was? You can’t just decide to kill someone?” she said in near disbelief.

Black shrugged. He actually shrugged.

“He’s a Slytherin, his life isn’t worth anything anyway.”

“That’s your justification? That’s what you’re going with?” she asked incredulously. “You can’t just create some arbitrary set of guidelines for deciding who’s life is worth something and who’s life isn’t.”

“It’s not arbitrary-” he started.

“Anyone sorted into Slytherin isn’t a life worth saving sounds an awful lot like anyone who isn’t a pureblood isn’t a life worth saving.”

He waved a hand at her comment. “No one has any control over their blood status, and it’s irrelevant anyway, you’re either a wizard or you’re not. But when you’re sorted, that’s based on your character and your values, that says something about who you are, who you choose to be. Anyone who values what Slytherin does deserves what’s coming to them.”

“What’s so bad about Slytherin house values?”

“Superiority. Dark Arts. Blood Status,” he ticked them off his fingers.

“Cunning. Ambitious. Resourceful,” she countered. “ _Those_ are Slytherin traits and they aren’t anything to be killed over.”

His expression darkened. “All things vile and evil come from Slytherin. That’s the way it is, that’s the way it’s always been. That was Salazar’s goal.”

“So I suppose the sorting hat just messed up with Pettigrew then?”

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped short.

“Being sorted into Slytherin doesn’t guarantee you’re a bad person any more than being sorted into Gryffindor guarantees you’re a good person. It’s all about choices. People deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

“Respectfully, I disagree. Some people don’t deserve that much.”

“Isn’t that how they got away with throwing you in Azkaban without a trial?”

Again, his mouth opened and then fell closed wordlessly. She walked briskly past him and up the stairs to disappear into the room once more.

* * *

After that initial trip outside Number Twelve, Kaelix slipped out nearly everyday. Black either didn’t notice or didn’t care, either way he wasn’t stopping her. The park, she realized, was about a thirty minute walk from the house. Sometime in the morning she’d set out and then she’d just sit on the bench across from the playground for as long as she liked before making the trek back. A few trips in she found herself at the park with a growling stomach, so the next day she raided the kitchen for a few snacks before she left. Something about being outside gave her more of an appetite than being cooped up all day. She lost track of the number of days in a row she made the trek, eventually the feeling of wrongness diminished to a mild irritation, and she stopped wondering if anyone else would stop by Number Twelve looking for her while she was away.

Today had been no different, until it was.

She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her as much to keep from waking Mrs. Black’s portrait as to keep from Black himself hearing her and coming for another verbal sparring match. She moved farther into the entry and a floorboard creaked.

“Kaelix?”

She froze. His voice echoed through her ears. She wasn’t ready for this, for him. She didn’t have time to brace herself before he was there in the entryway with her.

“Kaelix, is that- Thank Merlin, there you are. Where have you been?” he stopped a few paces in front of her and looked her up and down, relief flooding his features.

She kept her gaze anywhere but on him, her face burned. How had she never noticed just how small this entryway was before? It was suffocating.

“Is it her, Remus?” a woman’s voice called from the other room.

“Yes, Molly, it’s her and she’s fine,” he called back.

A fraction of a moment later a woman with fiery red hair burst into the entryway. She swept over to Kaelix who immediately stiffened at her approach.

“Oh, there you are dear, we were all so worried,” she said, grabbing Kaelix’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “Are you sure she’s alright, Remus? Did you give her a good look?” Molly moved to circle her, looking up and down all the way around, like she could see each and every bone and nerve in her body.

“I told you she’d come back in one piece,” said Black as he entered the room.

“Yes, your haphazard reassurance was very comforting, Sirius,” said Remus pointedly.

“I could have told you she was never coming back, if you’d have preferred,” said Black.

“She shouldn’t have been able to leave in the first place, you had specific instructions, Sirius,” he warned.

“She shouldn’t have been left without proper supervision,” said Molly, who had come full circle to stand in front of Kaelix.

“Are you implying that I’m not proper supervision, Molly? Because if that’s what you think then it’s a wonder why you left her alone with me at all,” said Black.

“Wasn’t my decision,” she muttered, still closely scrutinizing Kaelix’s face.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?” Black snapped.

Molly spun around on her heel, “I said, it wasn’t my decision, I never would have left her alone with you. Irresponsible-”

“If you were so convinced that I’m unfit, you should have stayed here yourself,” Black said, louder than was wise.

“It doesn’t matter whether Molly thinks you’re fit or not, she was lost on your watch, you were specifically told-”

“I was told she would be staying here, I was told to make sure she got something to eat, and to show her to her room. Nothing else,” he leaned into those last two words.

“Oh, use your head for once, Sirius,” Remus snapped.

“You know I never was as bright as you were, Remus,” he said facetiously. “Besides, I still don’t see what the problem is with her having left in the first place.”

“You know damn well why she shouldn’t have left.”

Just as Kaelix was wondering if she could slink around them and up the stairs unnoticed, Molly turned back around and began fussing over her again.

“Not to worry, dear. They’ll sort themselves out, you just gave us a bit of a scare is all,” she said.

“How would I have known that, Remus? No one seems keen to explain it to me,” barked Black.

“Come now, let’s get you something to eat, you look half starved,” said Molly as she ushered Kaelix into the kitchen.

Kaelix was much more interested in hearing the answer to Black’s question than she was in food. She followed Molly as slowly as she could.

“Maybe if you did something other than mope around the house all day, they’d be more keen on keeping you informed,” said Remus.

“You’d mope around just the same if you were stuck indoors all day, every single day. Just because-”

The kitchen door shut on Black’s words and they became so muffled that Kaelix couldn’t make them out.

“There now,” Molly gestured her to a stool by the table. “What do you like? I can make you anything you’d like.” Her smile was warm.

“I’m not hungry,” Kaelix said.

The exact opposite, actually. She was convinced that her stomach had somehow inverted within her body.

“Don’t be silly, it’s past supper time and you’ve been out all afternoon, you must be starving. I can boil up some potatoes, prepare some chicken, anything you like,” Molly insisted.

Kaelix relented, only because she could tell Molly wouldn’t. “Potatoes sound good.”

“Wonderful, dear. Just relax and I’ll-”

The kitchen door flew open with a loud bang and Black stomped through.

“We’re not done, Sirius,” Remus said loudly, following him in.

“Merlin’s beard, can’t you two take this somewhere else?” Molly said in vain.

“The only place we’re taking it is to a bottle of whiskey,” Black grunted.

“Drowning yourself won’t get you out of this,” Remus warned.

“I still don’t understand how this is my fault,” Black snapped. “The only person I was told couldn’t leave this house was me and I assure you, I’ve abided by that rule. For the most part.” He was rooting through a cupboard much to Remus’ irritation.

“You let a fifteen year old leave the house and wander about on her own, how do you not see that as your responsibility?” he said.

Fifteen. She’d missed two of her own birthdays, then.

“Do I look like her father to you?” Black threw the sleight over his shoulder.

Kaelix saw Remus’ spine stiffen and the internal struggle to school his features. With the nonchalant way he threw the comment out it seemed like Black didn’t know. Remus hadn’t told him. Of course he hadn’t, he didn’t want anyone to know.

Anger rippled over Remus’ face. “This isn’t a matter of paternity,” he spat. “She could have been taken off the street by anyone.”

“At fifteen I was doing just fine on my own,” Black snapped back. Then he emitted a grunt of triumph as he retrieved a fresh bottle of firewhiskey.

“Sirius,” Molly scolded, “you haven’t been drinking that-”

Remus’ raising voice plowed over her, “You moved in with James, we looked out for you. Just because you-”

“Neither of James’ parents hovered over me the way you want someone hovering over her-”

“Just because you think no one was looking out for you doesn’t mean-”

“She doesn’t need anyone telling her when she can come and go, she’s perfectly capable of-”

“This has nothing to do with what she’s capable of, Sirius. We’re at war-”

“You think I’ve forgotten that?” Black shouted, waving his newly open bottle.

“Current evidence suggests it.”

Black took a long swig straight from the bottle. “What would you have me do instead, Remus?”

“Stop drinking and stewing in self pity all day and make yourself useful for a change!”

“Stop yelling would you,” Kaelix shouted over both of them. “It’s not Black’s fault, no one told me that I couldn’t go outside.”

They fell silent, all three of them turning to face her at once.

It was Remus who spoke first, “What?”

She sighed, they were exhausting, the lot of them. “No one said I couldn’t leave the house.”

Remus’ brow furrowed, “That’s exactly my point, Sirius should have-”

“No,” she cut him off. “No one told me I couldn’t go outside. Not Black, not Arthur, not Kingsley, not Dumbledore, hell not even the Minster himself. _No one._ ”

“Is that your excuse then?” he asked.

“ _What_?”

“No one told you not to, is that your excuse for putting yourself in danger? If no one told you not to step in front of a train would you do that too?” he asked.

“Remus, please she’s-” Molly started.

“That’s hardly the same thing,” said Kaelix.

“She has a point, Remus,” Black interjected.

His comment earned him a glare from Remus. “It’s not so different,” he said defiantly.

“You’re equating stepping outside to jumping in front of a train?” she asked.

“Both dangerous, both things you shouldn’t have done,” he said.

She stared blankly at him, unable to fathom the jump in logic he’d made. “Whatever. The point is, it’s not Black’s fault.”

“See, there, I told you it wasn’t my fault,” said Black.

“You were the adult here, Sirius, a fact that I’m sure managed to escape your notice but a fact nonetheless. She should have known better but you definitely should have kept a better eye on her.”

A prick of anger rippled through her, “I was never told that I had to stay indoors. He was never told I was supposed to stay indoors. You can’t blame either of us for your screw up.”

“Kaelix, dear, Sirius shouldn’t have to be told that it’s dangerous for you to leave, he should have known,” Molly said.

“Why is it he should have known and I should have known? Why isn’t it you should have made it clear?” she said, leveling her gaze with Remus.

“We did-” Remus started.

“All you did was have a stranger pick me up from Azkaban and deliver me to the Ministry without a word, then you had another stranger take me from the Ministry and then dump me in the entryway of this house. Again, without a word. With only him to keep me company,” she gestured to Black.

“You’re not the most pleasant company yourself,” he shot at her.

“Says the man who hasn’t stopped complaining or drinking since the moment I arrived,” she snapped back.

“You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine either,” he sneered. “All things considered, I thought we were getting along quite well.”

“All things considered, it’s a miracle I haven’t cursed you to hell and back,” she said.

“There’s that charming personality coming out to play again. It’s been missing for a few days,” he sneered.

“I wish yours would go missing permanently,” she countered.

“Enough,” Remus said over the two of them. “Arthur should have made it clear that you weren’t to leave the house when he brought you, but we both know that you’re smart enough to have figured that out on your own. Regardless, you should have at least told Sirius that you were leaving, where you were going. Then maybe he would have stopped you.”

Black scoffed.

“What is so funny, Sirius?” he asked.

“The fact that you think he would stop me from leaving the house,” Kaelix supplied.

He turned a questioning eye on her.

“He knew I was leaving. Practically shoved me out the door himself,” she continued.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus snapped.

“Oh, good heavens, Sirius,” said Molly.

“She’s been shackled up long enough, and she desperately needed some fresh air. You think she looks like death now, you should have seen her when she arrived. If you didn’t want her going out alone then maybe one of you should have been here to hold her hand,” said Black.

“Sirius, I-” Remus faltered mid sentence.

He took another swig from the bottle of whiskey. “You really have so little faith in me.”

Remus ran a hand through his graying hair. “What does that mean?”

“It means, you honestly thought I let her leave the house alone.”

Remus blinked a few times, very slowly, processing what Black had said.

Kaelix got through it first, “You followed me?”

“You were a walking corpse when you got here, of course I followed you. Contrary to the belief of present company, I am not _that_ irresponsible,” Black said.

Before Kaelix could express her annoyance at being followed, Remus snapped.

“You _left the house?_ ”

“Of course I left the house, I wasn’t going to let her step in front of a train and leave me to deal with the fall out.”

“Someone could have spotted you,” Remus groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Irresponsible,” quipped Molly.

“First I was irresponsible for letting her go alone, now I’m irresponsible for not letting her go alone. Can’t you make up your mind because all of this back and forth is giving me a headache,” Black said.

“I asked if you knew where she was and you said no,” Remus said.

“That’s because I didn’t go with her today, I thought that was rather obvious when you arrived and I was here and she wasn’t.”

“Did either one of you even stop to think for _one second_?” Remus snapped.

Black opened his mouth.

“ _Don’t_ answer that,” Remus said, pointing to Black. “Kaelix?”

Kaelix glared at a tile on the floor, she was done. Beyond done.

“Kaelix?” Remus said again. “Did you even think at all?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. He was going to blame her for this no matter what she said. It didn’t matter that they were the ones who’d screwed up. And she didn’t have the energy for it.

“Kaelix?” he said again.

“Honestly?” she said. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“Really?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You honestly thought we wouldn’t notice that you’d left? _For hours?_ ” he pressed.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That is what I thought.”

Her flat response seemed to make him more upset. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Why, because I’m not apologizing or because I’m not yelling at you?”

“Because you don’t seem to realize what could have happened,” he said.

“Maybe if I’d been told what could have happened, maybe if I’d been told why I shouldn’t go out, maybe if I’d been told _anything_ , then maybe I wouldn’t have gone out.”

“If you would have just been patient-”

“I’ve been here for weeks and no one seemed particularly interested. No one noticed the first dozen or so times that I left so why should today have been any different? For all I knew you were just going to leave me here for another year and a half to pass by.” Her hands were trembling.

Her words seemed to strike Remus, his expression flickering for a fraction of a moment.

“So, in summary, I’m not allowed to leave the house without a grown up to hold my hand, and I’m expected to know all the rules without being told what they are. Got it. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to bed.” She crossed the kitchen and hoped no one would follow her.

“Kaelix, wait,” Remus said, trying to intercept her.

She sped up, not caring to continue the conversation. Remus reached to catch her elbow but his quick motion caught the curtain in the entryway.

“ _Half-breeds! Filth! Dirty, vile, freaks! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-”_

“Aren’t you all qualified wizards?” Kaelix shouted over her shoulder as she covered her ears, “Can’t any of you figure out how to silence that damn portrait?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, she took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

It wasn’t more than an hour before there was a soft knock at the bedroom door. She didn’t have to ask who it was. She ignored him long enough that he knocked again and called through the door. She still didn’t answer.

“Kaelix, I’d like to speak with you. Can I come in?”

It certainly felt like she wouldn’t have much say in the matter. That squirming dread filled her stomach at the prospect of facing him again, especially alone.

“Look, I know you’re upset but you don’t understand. A lot has changed since you left, and I was- we were just worried when you weren’t here. I know- Look, can you just open the door?”

“Open it yourself.”

He paused just long enough for her to think that maybe he wouldn’t come in, but then the knob turned and the door swung open. Kaelix stared out the fake window from where she sat folded up in the seat.

He stepped into the room and cleared his throat. She adjusted in her seat but kept her gaze out the window.

“I know you probably still hate me, but-”

“I don’t,” she said without turning.

He swallowed, “You don’t?”

Her eyes glossed over as she recalled the scene from the shrieking shack, the moment she’d realized that final piece. When she realized just what he’d done, what he wanted. The anger still pooled there and she withdrew, closing it off.

“I did. But like you said, alot’s happened.”

“I know this can’t be easy, spending over a year in Azkaban-”

Something fractured at his words and threatened to swallow her. “I don’t want to do this.” She pushed against it, shoring it up.

“That’s alright,” he said, “we don’t have to talk about that. But you should know-”

“That’s not what I meant.” She sucked in a breath and forced the words out before she could think twice, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

She didn’t have to be looking at him to know that confusion crossed his features.

“I don’t understand, you said you-”

“I said I don’t hate you. That doesn’t mean that I want to talk to you. So say whatever it is that you came in here to say and then leave, because I don’t have anything to say to you.”

She heard his intake of breath before he spoke again and there was a stiffness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “As I said, a lot has happened since you left-”

Her lips pursed and she shook her head slightly. He made it sound like she was away on holiday.

“-you need to understand that things have changed. At Hogwarts, the Ministry, the whole of the wizarding world has shifted and not for the better.”

She rocked one foot in quick, sharp movements. “I don’t really care.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” his voice was sharper. “This affects you, it affects all of us, whether we care or not.”

“I don’t care,” she repeated.

He continued on, despite her apathetic protest. “You’ll need to stay inside from now on, it’s not safe for you to go off on your own. Even if Sirius is shadowing you.”

“I told you downstairs, I got that.”

“When you get back to Hogwarts you’ll still need to be careful. There’s a Ministry employee-” he began.

“I get it, okay?” she said quickly, half turning toward the room. “I can’t go anywhere, I can’t do anything, I can’t trust anyone. Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t break any rules. Does that about cover it?”

“You were just shouting about no one telling you anything and now you’re not even listening.”

“Well, you’re not really telling me anything I don’t already know, are you? So unless you’re about to segway into an explanation about why they took me to Azkaban or why it’s too dangerous for me to leave the house or anything else that the adults have deemed too difficult or too advanced or too whatever, then I don’t care.”

“It’s not as easy as all that,” he said.

“I don’t care about any more excuses, okay?” She turned to face him, her foot rocking faster. “I don’t care about Hogwarts or the Ministry. I don’t care about leaving this hell-hole you call a house, and I don’t care about you or anything else you have to say. What will it take for you to understand that, do you need me to scream it at you? I don’t care. I don’t care. _I don’t care. I. Don’t. Care!_ ”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care so much about you right now either,” he snapped.

“Good, you’ve finally got it then. Now get out,” she ordered.

For a moment his anger faltered, his face fell, his sadness showed. But an instant later it was gone. He turned to leave.

He stopped, hand on the door. “You need to tell him, he deserves to know.”

That came out of left field. “Who deserves to know what?”

“Sirius, deserves to know he’s your father. You need to tell him, or I will,” he snapped the door shut on his ultimatum.

A cold stone dropped to the pit of her stomach and a fresh wave of dred swept over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo how was that chapter? And that ending? Did we see that coming??? I’m not gonna lie, Sirius and Kaelix bickering is pretty fun to write, especially when there’s firewhiskey involved too. What did you all think?! I’d love to hear what your favorite part about this chapter was or the storyline as a whole? What unanswered question are you still eager to have revealed? Thank you so much for reading and I hope you’re all doing well! Until next time! :)


	4. Shadow

He caught a glimpse of her nearly raven colored hair and did a double take. It couldn’t be her, surely they wouldn't bring her back here. Not after missing another year. She paused in front of the elaborate window display of Scrivenshaft’s Quill shop. Even from across the cobbled street he could tell something was off, wrong. He tried to convince himself that it was his imagination playing a trick, that it wasn’t her, it couldn’t be. Not here, not now. It didn’t make any sense. The hair was too long and she was too thin. The girl pulled her cloak tighter around her hunched form, far too hunched to be her.

She looked to her right, the cold fall air whipping her hair around in a flurry. His chest tightened and his stomach dropped. It was her. But not the her that he remembered. This was a girl who had endured Azkaban and survived, at least physically speaking. Her cheekbones were sharper, her amber eyes dull and hollow, and she looked so, so tired. He fought back the desire to go to her, to ask if she was alright. The answer was clear and he had no right to ask anyway. She turned almost square in his direction and he averted his gaze, shifting to face any other direction. The last thing he needed was for her to catch him staring, she’d eviscerate him. Or worse, she wouldn’t.

“You should go talk to her,” Nott said, dropping into the empty seat to his left.

Draco clenched his jaw and cursed the founders for letting Nott of all people catch him staring. He considered hexing him all the way back to the castle for the comment.

Nott held up his hands defensively, “Before you hex me into next week, just hear me out.”

Draco gave him a scathing look but didn’t object.

“I don’t care how much you deny it, you miss her and you want to go over there right now and talk to her. It’s written all over your face. So do us all a favor and just swallow your pride already, would you?”

He glanced back over to the shop, she had turned back to the window display. The pull in his chest still ached.

“And if she doesn’t want to talk to me?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I don’t expect she will.” Draco sent another scathing glare at Nott, who continued undeterred, “Not if you don’t pull that broomstick out of your arse and apologize for whatever shit you pulled last year-” Draco opened his mouth to protest, “- _ don’t _ try to deny it, I know something happened between the two of you.”

“You don’t know  _ what _ happened,” he snapped.

“I know you well enough to know you’re likely the one that screwed it up,” Nott said plainly.

Draco leaned his chair back. “If you miss her so much why don’t you go talk to her.”

Nott winced, “I may have already tried that.”

His chair nearly tipped over, his body jolting to counter-balance, “What? When?” he asked, trying in vain to keep his voice even as his chair landed on all four legs once again.

“Last year, a few weeks after whatever row the two of you had. You were still being unbearable-” Draco scoffed his disagreement, “-and she was under some absurd impression that your entire friendship had been a sham.”

“What did she say?” he ground out the question.

“Something about not wanting to be a joke anymore, any clue where she might have gotten that idea in the first place?” Nott asked, though his tone betrayed the fact that he already knew the answer.

Of course Draco knew where she’d gotten that idea, he’d given it to her. He never admitted that to Nott, or Zabini, or anyone else. He’d told himself it was for her own good, that it was better this way, safer. He hadn’t wanted to do it but he had been afraid, was still afraid, of what might happen if she remained friends with him. He didn’t like the idea of anything happening to her because of him. So when the opportunity presented itself he had pushed and pushed until it broke. Possibly beyond repair. That had been the goal, hadn’t it? His poorly formed and even worsley executed master plan to keep her away from him, to keep her safe. And then she’d ended up in Azkaban anyway.

“What do I even say?” he asked quietly.

“I’d recommend the first words out of your mouth being ‘I’m sorry’ quickly followed by ‘please forgive me for being such a prat last year, feel free to slap me for it’. But if you’re feeling lucky you could try slipping a ‘hello’ in first, but I’d only recommend trying that if you’re feeling  _ really _ lucky,” Nott said.

Draco clenched his hands, absently cracking a few knuckles. He knew Nott was right, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“Just talk to her, would you. Before it’s too late.”

“It’s been over a year,” he sighed. He scrubbed his face with both palms and voiced the question that ate at him the most, “What if it’s already too late, what if- what if I can’t fix this?”

Nott ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Something tells me it’s not too late, but there’s really only one way you’re going to find out.”

Nott stood and moved on, leaving Draco to contemplate his words. She was still across the street, standing in front of that damn shop. Could it really be that easy? To just walk over there, to just say something,  _ anything _ . A scene played out in his head.

_ “Williams, what is so fascinating, have you found something new and shiny?” _ he’d tease.

She wouldn’t even bother looking over her shoulder in his direction,  _ “We’re not all as easily amused as you are, Malfoy. _ ”

_ “But wouldn’t life be better if you were?” _

_ “Life’s better if you have to work for it a little bit.” _

_ “My life should be wonderful then, with how much work you are.” _

_ “And I’m a treat in comparison to how much work you are,” _ she would say with a smirk.

_ “Which, by your own definition, means your life is better than mine and that you owe it to me. So you’re welcome.” _

_ “I said life is better if you work for it a little. You are way more than a little bit of work, it’s hardly worth it, really.” _

_ “Merlin, why do you put up with me then?” _

_ “Mostly for the brief moments of amusement I get.” _

_ “Is that all I am to you? A source of amusement?” _

_ “Other than an incessant pain in my side? Yes,” _ she’d say while holding back the smile that she wouldn’t be able to prevent from lighting her eyes.

He blinked, his gaze coming back to the present, to reality. That was a scenario that might have happened before. Could it still? She was right there, all he had to do was cross the street and say something. He played it out in his head again and again, how different scenarios might go. Walking over, what he’d say, how she’d react. It was simple, so painfully simple. His heartbeat quickened. If he could just go through with it, just get his legs to listen to his brain. He would explain, he would apologize, he would beg her to understand if he had to. It would work, it had to work.

He shifted to stand, the signal finally making it from thought to action. But he froze before he’d risen a fraction of an inch. He should have known, it was only a matter of time. He watched as she turned to face Potter. Her expression was obscured from his angle but he could see Potter’s just fine. Chattering on and on like they were old friends. Draco’s hand clenched the arms of his chair with white knuckles.

A new scene played through his mind. One where she didn’t engage with him, where she didn’t smirk or fight off the smile that lit up her eyes. Instead she ignored him, looked at him with nonchalance, maybe she’d swear at him and call him names, or maybe she wouldn’t care enough even for that. He relaxed back into his seat, there was no way she’d ever pick him over Potter. He was such a fool. There was no way she’d ever pick  _ him _ .

* * *

Harry was still riding the high of the Hog’s Head meeting with Ron and Hermione when he caught a glimpse of her up the street.

“Williams?” he called out over the drone of the crowd.

He ignored the groan from Ron and weaved through the crowd to stand beside her in front of the window display. 

“You’re back,” he said, by way of greeting.

He looked her over, noting how tired she seemed, and a bit of concern crept into his voice. “How are you?”

She hardly glanced at him before answering flatly, “Peachy, Potter, just peachy.”

“Right.” He buried his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, trying to gage her. “Well, at least Dumbledore got you out, and we’re not that far into the term, you’ll catch up in no time.”

“Wonderful,” she said, without any sort of sincerity. “That was my biggest concern while I was locked up in prison, whether or not I would be able to catch up on the school work I missed.”

“Er- Right, that was stupid of me,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and mentally kicking himself.

She didn’t acknowledge his admission, she just kept staring at the quills in the window.

“So, you were staying with a friend of mine, a mutual friend really, weren’t you? How is old Snuffles doing?” he asked.

“Snuffles?” she repeated, confusion etching her features.

“Yeah, you remember him, met him just before you left last year,” he said.

It took a moment for the confusion to leave her features, but she seemed to put it together. “He’s as annoying as ever. Stomping around the house like a toddler in a time out. A drunk toddler.”

Harry let out a small laugh, “Sounds about right.”

A thick silence fell between them. Hermione hovered over his left shoulder and Ron over his right. He could practically feel the glare Ron was giving her. Despite Harry and Hermione’s adamant defense of Williams over the last year, Ron still refused to dismiss his suspicion and general dislike for her. Harry shifted on his feet, he hadn’t expected her to be quite so… quiet. He’d been planning to invite her to join in on their defense lessons but he wasn’t sure if this was the right place to ask.

“Would you just say it already,” she said abruptly.

He blinked, “Say what?”

“Whatever it is you’re wrestling with, just spit it out.”

He took a breath, hoping Hermione and Ron wouldn’t be too upset by this but on some level he didn’t care if they were. “Alright, just hear me out before you say no,” he swore he could see her already making up her mind. “I know you’ve only just got back, but there’s this sort of club we’ve just put together and I think you might want to join.”

“Harry, are you mad?” Ron hissed.

“No,” she said.

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not interested.”

“Leave it, Harry, we’re better off without her,” said Ron.

“Ron, don’t be rude,” Hermione snapped.

“Ignore him, he doesn’t mean it,” Harry said with a wave at Ron.

“I do mean it, the less she knows the better off we are when she runs back to her real house,” said Ron.

Hermione scolded him again, Harry ignored the comment, and Williams just stared blankly at Ron.

“What no witty comebacks anymore? Did the dementors suck them all out of you?” Ron said.

“ _ Ron! _ ” Hermione hissed.

“Sod off, Ron,” Harry snapped over his shoulder.

Williams continued to stare at Ron over Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe they did,” she said, her voice hollow.

She side-stepped around all of them and set off down the street.

“What the bloody hell was that, Ron?” Harry demanded. “She’s just got back and you have to be an arse?”

He didn’t wait for a response before setting off down the street after her.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“To make sure she’s okay, not that it matters to you,” he snapped.

“Harry, wait-” Hermione called.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he said with a dismissive wave.

Harry slipped through the crowd, trailing after Williams, who managed a brisk pace despite the crowded street. He wasn’t really sure what he would say when he caught up to her, seeing as how him following her was her least favorite thing. But he couldn’t help feeling like she shouldn’t be alone, and like he needed to apologize again for Ron’s attitude. And then there was Lupin’s request that he keep an eye on her. He was fairly confident she would call it spying, but what was a little light stalking between friends?

He followed her past groups of students, past shop owners cheery with the prospect of sales, and past the shops themselves. She didn’t stop until long after the bustling sounds of the main village faded and Harry had to drop back farther to make sure she didn’t notice him. She continued on past the edge of the village where the cobbles turned to dirt and the dirt had grown riddled with the roots of trees that formed a sort of barrier between the village and the shrieking shack. He followed her through the trees, wondering what could possibly be drawing her here. They passed a few giggling third years who must have just been to see the shack for the first time.

When she cleared through the tree line, he saw the exhale of her breath fade away in front of her into the chilly autumn air. He considered approaching and just admitting that he’d followed her to make sure she was alright. It wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but it wasn’t the worst either. But there were footsteps approaching through the trees to their right. Harry ducked behind a bush and parted the leaves just far enough to see who was coming. Had she meant to meet someone out here?

Harry missed the man’s face as he came to a halt a few steps behind Williams. She didn’t acknowledge him but he appeared to Harry to have the same build as the man she’d met in Hogsmeade before. Harry leaned a bit farther, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. The man turned to scan through the trees, and Harry found that his features were obscured. He blinked and swiped his glasses off to see if they’d been smeared. When he replaced them the man’s features remained fuzzy, like Harry couldn’t focus on them no matter how hard he tried.

_ That’s not suspicious at all, _ he thought.

“It’s good to see you free of a cage again,” the man said.

A feeling of unease rose up in Harry. He knew that voice, recognized it from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember who it belonged to.

Williams emitted a sigh. “Why? What does it matter to you where I am?”

“My offer to help you still stands. Had you accepted it when I first extended it, you wouldn’t have ended up in Azkaban at all. I just need to know that you’re on my side, that you want my help, and that you’re willing to return the favor when the time comes,” he said.

Harry slipped to the next tree over, trying to get a better angle on the pair of them. Who could this man be that he could have prevented her from being sent to Azkaban when Dumbledore himself had failed to prevent it?

“Does it even matter what I want? You all seem to just do whatever you want anyway,” she said.

“It matters because you have to decide whose side you’re going to be on and I can only help you if you choose the right side.”

_ Which side was he asking her to join though _ , Harry wondered.

“Help me, don’t help me. I don’t care anymore. It doesn’t make a difference,” she said, in a decidedly non-Williams way.

“Aren’t you at all interested in what they’re keeping from you?” he asked, a note of irritation in his voice.

“At this point I had just assumed everything.”

A ripple of sympathy swept through Harry, turns out he wasn’t the only one they were leaving in the dark. The man smirked, Harry wasn’t sure how he could tell given that he couldn’t actually make out his features, but it was there.

“That’s a wise assumption,” he said. “However, I was thinking something a little more specific. Something a little closer to home.”

Williams rolled her eyes. “I’m not taking wild guesses at your riddles anymore. Either tell me or don’t.”

“Very well, no more beating around the bush-” Harry swore, that sharpness in his voice was  _ so  _ familiar “-I know what happened to your brother.”

Williams didn’t move. Harry thought she might be holding her breath, she was so still. Somewhere in his mind he noted that Williams might kill him for eavesdropping on this particular conversation. But in his defense, Remus asked him to do it, in a roundabout way. Though he doubted that would save him from her wrath.

“I never had a brother,” she said.

“We both know that’s not true, no matter how much you deny it.”

The man sounded certain and Harry realized that he really had no idea whether Williams had any family at all. He couldn’t recall her ever mentioning anything of her life outside of Hogwarts.

“I don’t have a brother,” she repeated.

“Austin is alive. Go ahead and ask Dumbledore, he knows, he’ll deny it all the same but he knows the truth.”

“Austin is dead,” she said flatly. “And I already told you, I never had a brother.”

“I tire of your denials the same way you tire of my riddles. He’s alive whether you choose to believe it or not,” the man snapped.

“It’s not so much a choice as it is a  _ fact _ . One I knew long before I even met the Old Man, so he wouldn’t know anything about it anyway,” she said.

“You don’t think that perhaps the Old Man knew who you were before he came to fetch you and bring you to Hogwarts? You don’t think that maybe he knows more than he’s admitted to about your past? He has tracked you down twice after all.”

Williams echoed Harry’s own thoughts. “Twice?”

“To be fair, I believe you were unconscious the first time he found you, but I’m sure he failed to mention the fact that he was there that night. After the fire,” he said.

Harry’s mind jumped back to that first Defense class with Lupin third year. Most of the students had had such mundane boggarts, spiders, mummies, severed hands, but not Williams. He recalled the image of a boy bursting into flames, screaming at her. Was that what her boggart had meant, was she afraid of fire?

“What’s the point?” she asked quietly.

“The point is, he’s using you. I want to empower you,” he said.

_ That sounds like a load of shit, _ Harry thought.

Williams shook her head, “I mean what’s the point of lying about it, about any of it? What does he gain from me not knowing that he was there that night? From me not knowing that Austin is alive?”

“I would have thought the answer was quite obvious.”

She glanced wordlessly back at him, her expression blank.

“Power over you. The ability to manipulate you under the guise of free will. We make choices based on our assessment of all the information we have available to us. By keeping information from you, he controls what information is available for you to assess, thereby limiting your potential choices, your actions. He controls you,” he explained.

That didn’t really sound like the Dumbledore that Harry knew, but he was growing more irritated by the day since the events of last summer. There were definitely things he wasn’t being told, but it wasn’t out of manipulation, they all just thought he was too fragile to handle it. They must have thought the same of Williams.

“Austin died in that fire. The entire house was destroyed, there’s no way anyone would have survived that,” Williams said.

“You did,” the man countered.

“That was a fluke,” she said. “Maybe that’s why the Old Man was there, to keep me alive for whatever mysterious plot you think he has. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“Your surviving that fire was no fluke, and Dumbledore had nothing to do with it either.”

“So what? The fire just happened to burn it’s way all around me? How considerate,” she said.

“When a volcano erupts it destroys everything around it but in the end it’s left standing, stronger than before,” he said.

“I’m the volcano in this metaphor, you think I started that fire and that’s why I survived? I was only seven, how could I have done all that?”

“You’re not honestly telling me that you’ve never considered it before, that it’s never once occurred to you that you were the cause of the fire?” his eyes narrowed at her.

Her jaw was set. “Again, how-”

“Don’t pretend you’re a fool,” he snapped at her. “Whether you’ll admit it or not, we both know you’ve considered it. After all, that’s why your boggart takes on the form that it does, doesn’t it? Because you’re afraid you started the fire, because you’re afraid that  _ you _ killed him.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he swore Williams wavered on her feet. It made sense now, that her boggart would appear as a burning boy. She’d always said she wasn’t afraid of him, but she’d been looking at it the wrong way. She was afraid of what had happened to him, afraid that she had caused it. Now Harry was certain that if-  _ when _ Williams found out that he had overheard this particular conversation, it wouldn’t matter that Voldemort was back, she would kill him herself.

“Tell me, how can you trust a man who would allow you to continue to believe that even when he knows with one hundred percent certainty that it’s not true?” the man asked her.

Williams didn’t answer immediately. Harry wished he had a better view of her face to gage her reaction. If that really was the first time she’d put together what her boggart meant she must be reeling.

“Austin’s dead,” she said, more to herself than the other man.

“I don’t tell you this to ease your guilt or to give you a false sense of hope, but because it’s the truth. If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll have to find the proof yourself. St. Mungos would be a good place to start,” he said with an air of finality.

Then he turned and disappeared through the trees, back the way he came.

Harry was torn, he desperately wanted to go after the man and try to figure out who he was. But Williams stood at the fence, clutching it with white knuckles, looking like she’d just had the rug pulled out from under her. Before he could decide the man was gone.

Harry wasn’t sure how long he stood there riddled with indecision, trying to come up with some way to approach her that didn’t feel quite so stalker-ish. She hadn’t moved either, save for bowing her head at one point, and the longer he waited the more he felt the opportunity slipping by. He’d be lying if he said this secret rendezvous hadn’t awoken that old suspicion he had of her during third year. Not that it had ever gone away entirely. But he knew from past experience that grilling her about any of this wouldn’t get him very far. And after adamantly defending her to Ron last year his pride wasn’t ready to admit that they might not be able to trust her.

He stepped out from behind his hiding spot, trying to walk as casually as possible. Just being honest seemed like it was the best option, even if it resulted in her ripping him apart. A twig snapped underfoot and her head snapped up.

_ Shit _ .

“Williams?” he called out to announce his presence.

Her shoulders relaxed a bit but she didn’t answer him.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” he said.

Still nothing.

“I know this is hard to believe,” he said, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could quite arrange them in his mind, “but I didn’t mean to eavesdrop this time. I really just wanted to make sure you were okay, but then that man showed up and started talking to you and I couldn’t make out his face, which seems strange. Do you know him? I wouldn’t ask except- Well, I’m not sure how much anyone has told you yet, but Voldemort is back and someone hiding their identity would be suspicious enough normally, but now we might be dealing with actual death eaters and-”

He stopped short when she finally moved, turning back toward the village and walking straight past him through the trees.

“Williams?” he said, hesitantly following her.

“Professor McGonagall’s office,” she said.

“What?” He nearly tripped on a tree root.

She stopped abruptly and he nearly collided with her. She met his gaze and he braced himself for the tongue lashing she’d surely give him for following her. But her eyes were dull and her voice was flat.

“I just figure it will be easier for you to follow me if you know where I’m going.” Then she was off again.

Harry blinked several times, stunned that she hadn’t yelled or shouted or cursed at him. She’d chastised him for much less in the past, so it was perplexing that she would let this instance slide so easily. Maybe she didn’t realize the extent of what he’d overheard. But even so, he would have expected her to lecture him just for following her, well intentioned or not.

He hurried to catch up to her, falling into step next to her since she had basically invited him along, sort of.

“Did you hear what I said back there?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

He waited, expecting her to continue but they drew closer to the edge of the village and she remained silent.

“So… do you know who that man is?” he asked.

“No.”

“He certainly seemed to know you.”

She made a small sound of agreement but didn’t offer anything else. They had reached the edge of the cobbled street and were met with the dull buzz of idle chatter. The sun was sinking in the late afternoon but many students were still making their way around the village. They were walking almost stride for stride and Harry wondered how much of a storm was brewing within her. He hadn’t realized that the only thing worse than her lecturing him, would be her silence. Leaving him perpetually braced for a tongue lashing.

He struggled to find words that didn’t sound silly. He didn’t know what to say so he just kept walking next to her as they wove through the crowd back toward the train station where the carriages waited to return students to the castle. He had so many questions but this hardly seemed like the place to discuss most of them, and it was difficult to narrow it down to something he could ask on a publicly crowded street. He finally settled on something that felt neutral enough.

“Did you hear that we got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Really seems like that rumor of the job being cursed might be true after all,” he said.

“No,” she said, not breaking her stride.

If she was upset to learn that Lupin wouldn’t be there to tutor her again this year, she didn’t show it.

“She’s a real piece of work, doesn’t believe in teaching practical defense so we just read books on theory for the entire class.”

“Sounds painful.”

“That’s actually why-” he glanced around and lowered his voice a bit, “-we’re starting that club I mentioned earlier. To practice things ourselves, that she won’t teach us.”

She didn’t comment.

“I think it would be good if you joined us, especially if you don’t know who that man was. If he was hiding his identity like that then he could be dangerous, you should at least know how to defend yourself in case he reappears and won’t take no for an answer.”

“Mmm,” was her noncommittal response.

“Just think about it? I’d really appreciate having another friend around right now,” he admitted.

“We’re not friends, Potter.”

“Come on, Williams,” he said with a scoff and a shake of his head. “We travelled through time together, a bond like that can’t be broken. Plus I still have to tell you all about the spiders in the forbidden forest.”

“You really don’t.”

Harry kicked a loose cobble. “You’re upset that I followed you.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Ron’s comment then? I meant to apologize again for that-”

“I don’t care what Weasley thinks of me.”

“Okay... So what did I do?” he asked. “Because I can tell you’re upset with me about something.”

“I’m not upset. Do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore.”

Harry stuttered to a stop in the middle of the street, utterly baffled as he watched Williams continue down the street.

“Harry,” Ron called, beckoning him into the Three Broomsticks.

“What happened?” Hermione asked as he slid into the seat next to her.

Harry shrugged. “I followed her to the shrieking shack and that man from before showed up. At least I think it was the same man, I couldn’t make out his features but he sounded familiar, like I’ve talked to him before. But I can’t put a face to his name.”

“Probably a death eater,” muttered Ron, earning him a glare from Harry.

Hermione passed him the extra butterbeer they’d ordered. “He said if she’d taken the protection that he offered her then she wouldn’t have ended up in Azkaban and that her brother is still alive.”

“She has a brother?” Ron and Hermione asked in unison.

He sipped his drink. “Dunno. He seemed pretty certain she did, and that he was alive. Williams knew who he was talking about but she said the boy wasn’t her brother and that he was dead. Died in a fire or something.”

“She probably killed him,” Ron said bitterly, earning a glare from both Harry and Hermione this time.

“What?” he said defensively. “We never did figure out why they took her to Azkaban in the first place, did we? Maybe they found out she killed her own brother.”

“She thinks she did, or at least she’s afraid she did,” said Harry, his eyes distant. He shook the thought away, “Besides, whatever they locked her up for, Dumbledore found a way around. Not sure even he could get around murder.”

“Especially since his credibility with the Ministry is currently shot,” said Hermione.

“What if it was never something she did?” Harry mused.

“What if we just let it go?” Ron said.

“What else would it be?” Hermione asked, ignoring Ron’s comment altogether.

Harry heaved a sigh, “Maybe… maybe it wasn’t something she did but something she was doing that year?”

“I don’t follow?” said Hermione.

“You said the rare book dealer you got that book from disappeared too, didn’t you?” Harry asked, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Maybe the Ministry is hiding something, something to do with what’s in that book. Something Williams was onto?”

“I suppose it’s possible… but you know as well as I do, there was nothing in that book. Well, nothing we could see anyway.”

“Which is suspicious in it’s own right, but when you consider both Williams and the book dealer disappearing shortly after she requested it…” Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore must have convinced them that she didn’t know anything about it or that she’d stop looking into it or… something.”

“What does it matter?” Ron asked again, “If she’s in league with the Slytherins then she’s better off in a cell.”

“She’s  _ not _ in league with the Slytherins, how many times do we have to tell you? She helped us rescue Sirius,” he snapped.

Ron rolled his eyes and went back to his drink, muttering to himself, “I much preferred last year when she wasn’t around to muck anything up.”

“Yes, last year you managed to muck everything up on your own, didn’t you?” Hermione snapped.

“Oh, come off it, you can’t still be upset about the Yule Ball.”

“I can be upset about whatever I want to be upset about, Ron, and I don’t need your permission for it.”

“Maybe we missed something,” Harry said. “We should look through the book again, see if we can figure out what’s supposed to be there. And, actually, the man mentioned something about St. Mungos.”

“I’m not sure what else we could try,” Hermione said, pursing her lips. “We could ask some teachers, but that might arouse suspicion… What about St. Mungos?”

“No idea. The man who met Williams mentioned it, made it seem like it was connected to her brother somehow.”

“I can think of a few things to try again with the book, but St. Mungos? I don’t think we can just take a day trip and poke around a hospital, Harry.”

“I guess we just wait on that one and see if the opportunity presents itself,” Harry said.

“Or we just let it go,” Ron groaned, dropping his head to the table.

Harry rolled his eyes and let the subject drop for the time being.

* * *

Williams’ less than warm arrival had put a slight damper on Harry’s spirits, but the success of the Hog’s Head meeting, coupled with Hermione’s comment that Cho couldn’t keep her eyes off him, carried him through the rest of the weekend. He hadn’t seen Williams again since she disappeared through the crowd on her way to Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry had hoped to get another chance to talk to her before she too was swamped with classes and extra homework, but she never came down from the girls’ dormitory. In fact, she hadn’t been at dinner the previous night, breakfast this morning, or lunch that afternoon. Hermione had caught him looking for her at the Gryffindor table and shrugged, confirming that Williams’ trunk had returned to the foot of her four poster bed and added that she was likely catching up on sleep. Harry didn’t point out that she’d had almost an entire month to catch up on sleep already when she was stuck at Grimmauld with Sirius, but resolved to check with Professor McGonagall if she hadn’t reappeared by the next morning.

The knowledge that they were actually doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry, and that he was a key part of that rebellion, gave Harry a feeling of immense satisfaction. He kept replaying the meeting over and over in his head, that all of those people believed in him enough to come to him for defense lessons… Just the fact that they believed him at all and didn’t think him the nutter that the Ministry was making him out to be was relief enough, but that they thought he could lead them, teach them to defend themselves? It was almost as exciting as when Cho had praised his performance in the Triwizard Tournament. All of it together was enough to put him in good spirits despite the imminent prospect of all of his least favorite classes being packed into one day.

The next morning, he and Ron headed downstairs from their dorm, discussing the new move Angelina had told them about called the Sloth Grip Roll. They were set to try the move that evening during Quidditch practice, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already gathered the attention of a small but growing group of people.

A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there, the lists of second-hand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasleys’ new advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost-and-found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

**\--BY ORDER OF--**

**THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS**

**All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.**

**An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.**

**Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).**

**No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.**

**Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.**

**_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._ **

**Signed:**

**_Dolores Jane Umbridge_ **

**HIGH INQUISITOR**

Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second years.

“Does this mean they’re going to shut down the Gobstones Club?” one of them asked his friend.

“I reckon you’ll be okay with Gobstones,” Ron said darkly, making the second year jump. “I don’t think we’re going to be as lucky, though, do you?” he asked Harry as the second years hurried away.

Harry was reading the notice through again, the anger sparking in the pit of his stomach grew with each line until he was pulsing with rage.

“This isn’t a coincidence.” His fists clenched white. “She knows.”

“She can’t,” said Ron at once.

“There were people listening in that pub. And let’s face it, we don’t know how many of the people who turned up we can trust… Any of them could have run off and told her.”

He had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him. He was a fool.

“Zacharias Smith!” said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. “Or- I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look too-”

“I wonder if Hermione has seen this yet?” Harry said, looking toward the girls’ dormitories.

“Let’s go and tell her,” said Ron. He bounded forward, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when it happened. There was a loud wailing sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, his arms flailing madly, before his feet slipped out from beneath him and he shot down the newly formed slide, coming to rest face down at Harry’s feet.

“Er- I don’t think we’re allowed in the girls’ dormitories,” said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

“Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?” they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

“Me,” said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. “I didn’t realize that would happen. It’s not fair!” he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. “Hermione’s allowed in our dormitory, how come we’re not allowed-?”

“Well, it’s an old-fashioned rule,” said Hermione, who had just slid neatly onto the rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, “but it says in Hogwarts, A History that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?”

“To see you, look at this!” said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard.

Hermione’s eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.

“Someone must have snitched,” Ron insisted.

“It can’t have been anyone at the meeting, we’d  _ know _ ,” Hermione countered.

“And how’s that? Gotten more in tune with your inner eye since quitting Divination, have you?”

Hermione huffed in disapproval. “Honestly, Ron. They can’t have snitched, I enchanted the parchment.”

“You enchanted the parchment?” he asked.

“Of course I enchanted the parchment, do I look like a first year to you?” she snapped.

“What’ll happen to them?” Ron asked eagerly.

Harry didn’t hear Hermione’s answer. The next girl to slide neatly onto the rug was Williams. She climbed to her feet and gave the stair slide a glance as it reverted back to steps before their eyes. She didn’t look any better than when he’d seen her in Hogsmeade two days ago, if anything, she looked worse. Dark circles hung under her eyes, her entire countenance felt deflated. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed in the sunlight how shallow her features had become. She was withdrawn, hollow, like a shadow of her former self. Grey, muted, and quiet. She skirted the edge of the crowd, either not noticing or not caring that she paused within a few feet of them. Her eyes on the notice board as well, trying to discern what was causing the slight commotion.

He only considered it for a moment before he side stepped over to her.

“Morning, Williams.” He ventured a sideways glance at her.

She didn’t respond. No irritated eye roll, no exasperated sigh, nothing to indicate she’d heard him at all. She didn’t even glance in his direction. She just kept staring at the bulletin board with her dull gaze.

He tried again, “This is just the most recent in a long line of decrees put in place by the Ministry,” he explained, nodding to the bulletin. “Our new Defense Professor is-”

“McGonagall already told me,” was all she said before she turned and walked away.

Even her voice rang hollow. Harry watched her go, perplexion crossing his features. Certainly Azkaban was no picnic, but she’d been out for a few weeks already. That hollowness in her voice, he’d never heard anything like it before. Not even Sirius who’d resided in Azkaban for twelve long years had sounded so… empty after he’d escaped.

“Azkaban really did a number on her, didn’t it?” said Ron, coming up beside him. “I think I liked her better when she yelled at you.”

“She’s just gotten out,” Hermione said, “I’m sure she just needs a little time to readjust.”

Harry wasn’t sure he agreed.

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge’s sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a tangible buzz in the air, extra chatter and movement around the hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon them.

“Did you see it?”

“D’you reckon she knows?”

“What are we going to do?”

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

“We’re going to do it anyway, of course,” he said quietly.

“Knew you’d say that,” said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

“The prefects as well?” said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

“Of course,” said Hermione coolly.

“Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott,” said Ron, looking over his shoulder. “And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith… no looks very spotty.”

Hermione looked alarmed.

“Nevermind the spots, the idiots can’t come over here now, it’ll look really suspicious- sit down!” she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. “Later! We’ll-talk-to-you-later!”

“I’ll tell Michael,” said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off the bench, “the fool, honestly…”

She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table, Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog’s Head. Would Umbridge’s notice scare her off meeting them again? He glanced down the table and saw Williams sitting a little ways down the bench, next to Neville, picking at some toast. Her return would likely be an afterthought in the midst of everything else going on. Which, she honestly probably preferred.

“Harry! Ron!” Angelina’s desperate voice tore his attention away from Williams.

“It’s okay,” Harry started quietly, glancing around to check for teachers again. “We’re still going to-”

“You realize she’s included Quidditch in this?” she said over him. “We have to go and ask her for permission to re-form the Gryffindor team.”

“What?” said Harry.

“No way,” said Ron, appalled.

“You read the sign, didn’t you? It mentions teams. Quidditch teams. Please, Harry… I am saying this for the last time,” she implored him, “please,  _ please  _ don’t lose your temper with her again. She could refuse to let us play.”

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, because Angelina looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself.”

“Bet Umbridge is in on History of Magic,” said Ron grimley, as they set off for Binns’ lesson. “She hadn’t inspected his class yet… bet you anything she’s there.”

But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry didn’t even attempt to follow what he was saying today; he doodled idly on his parchment, ignoring Hermione’s frequent glares and nudges. He’d been filled with such excitement, such joy over the weekend. A brief respite from what had become his baseline level of frustration, only to have it yanked away just as quickly.

He looked down the row at Williams and was only mildly surprised to find that she looked as disengaged in this lesson as he felt. Her quill was poised to take notes but her eyes stared straight through the parchment in front of her. A particularly painful poke in the ribs made him look angrily over at Hermione.

“What?”

She pointed at the window to his left. He looked around and found Hedwig perched on the narrow ledge, staring through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. It was odd, they had just had breakfast so why hadn’t she delivered the letter then, with the rest of the owls. Some of the other students were beginning to notice Hedwig as well.

“Oh, I’ve always loved that owl, she’s so beautiful,” Lavender said to Parvati.

He looked back to Professor Binns, who continued to read his notes, blissfully unaware that the entire class’ attention had been drawn even farther away from him than usual. Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.

He had expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery, but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. He closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. Once back in his seat he transferred Hedwig to his lap and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.

Only then did he realise that Hedwig’s feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.

“She’s hurt,” Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. “Look, there’s something wrong with her wing–”

Hedwig was quivering; when Harry tried to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.

“Professor Binns,” said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. “I’m not feeling well.”

Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.

“Not feeling well?” he repeated hazily.

“Not at all well,” said Harry firmly, getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. “I think I need to go to the hospital wing.”

“Yes,” said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong-footed. “Yes... yes, hospital wing… well, off you go, then, Perkins…”

Harry edged toward the door, careful to keep Hedwig concealed behind his back until Professor Binns’ attention had reverted back to the lesson. As Harry was about to clear the threshold into the corridor he caught sight of Williams again. Her glassy eyes still staring, unseeing at her parchment, her quill poised for notes, but not a mark to be seen. She hadn’t moved, seemingly hadn’t even heard his departure from class. For a very, very brief moment he considered hauling her up and taking her to the hospital wing. But Hedwig gave a soft trill and he nearly leapt out of the room so that Professor Binns didn’t see.

Later. He’d figure out what to do about Williams later. Hedwig was his concern right now. He set off down the corridor to find Professor Grubbly-Plank, hoping she could help.

* * *

Draco held the parchment in his hand aloft for anyone else to see. They were outside the potions classroom and the few Gryffindors already gathered there were throwing looks his way. The letter he’d received from his father that morning had put him in a mood and a bit of terrorizing Gryffindors was in order to lift his spirits. If he was an objective self evaluating teenager then he might have realized he was only looking for a distraction, but even if he’d had the realization, he certainly never would have admitted it. Crabbe, Goyle, and several of the other Slytherins looked on in amusement as he staged himself.

“Yeah,” he said, louder than he needed to. “Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straight away, I went to ask her first thing this morning.” Potter, Weasley, and Granger had arrived and he relished in the scowl that was plain on Potter’s face. For once he wasn’t the golden boy, for once Draco had something Potter didn’t. “Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he’s always popping in and out of the Ministry… It’ll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won’t it?”

“Don’t rise,” Granger whispered to Potter and Weasley. “That’s exactly what he wants.”

She was right. He rolled his shoulders, wondering just how much more it would take.

“I mean,” he continued, raising his voice a little more and glaring malevolently in their direction, “if it’s a question of influence with the Ministry, I don’t think they’ve got much chance… from what my father says, they’ve been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. And as for Potter… well, I hear it’s only a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo’s.”

Draco could almost see the seething rage that was bubbling within Potter, barely contained. His knuckles were white with the effort. If he lost it right outside Professor Snape’s classroom Potter would have detention for a week.

“Apparently they’ve got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic…”

Crabbe and Goyle let out grunts of laughter and Pansy shrieked with glee loud enough that he almost regretted saying anything at all. Then her shriek changed to one of terror and she jumped out of the way just in time for Draco to see, not Potter, but Longbottom charging straight for him.

Draco wasn’t sure whether he heard the shouts first or felt the impact at his temple. His head jerked violently sideways, his reflexive duck not quite quick enough to avoid the blow altogether. He stumbled and caught himself against the wall. There was a moment of blurred chaos where he heard nothing and everything at once. Black spots dotted his vision and he was vaguely aware of Longbottom flailing as he was frantically pulled away from Draco. He gingerly touched his temple and instantly winced with regret, his fingers came away bloody. Longbottom had quite the right hook.

“Help me!” Potter shot at Weasley.

The two of them together managed to drag Longbottom backward, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle stepped in front of Draco, closing ranks and flexing their arms threateningly. Now that Longbottom had been restrained, impeccable timing. Potter and Weasley managed to wrestle Longbottom all the way back into the throng of Gryffindors down the corridor. His face was scarlett from the pressure of Potter’s arm around his throat. Odd words were sputtering from his mouth that Draco could hardly make out, his head still throbbed from the impact.

“Not… funny… don’t… Mungo’s… show… him…”

He gently rubbed his brow, wishing everyone would just disappear from the corridor. His anger roiled and seethed as he watched Potter and Weasley continue to struggle with Longbottom, almost wishing they’d just let him go. He sniggered, another taunt on the tip of his tongue. Didn’t the idiot realize what he’d just done?

Draco’s gaze shifted up over Potter’s shoulder and his smirk fell. His jaw clenched. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before her amber gaze flickered away just as fast. His stomach dropped at the hollowness he saw there, so unlike the bright, fiery eyes he was expecting. Her very presence was a dull imitation of what it used to be. He swallowed hard and his cheeks burned as he averted his gaze.

The dungeon door opened and Snape appeared. His dark eyes swept across the row of Gryffindors lining the corridor and landed on Potter and Weasley where they still wrestled with Longbottom.

“Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?” Snape said in his cold, calculating voice. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you.”

As they filed into the classroom, everyone whispering about what Neville had just done, Draco was keenly aware of Williams’ movement into and through the classroom. She moved to the back of the classroom, taking a seat as far from him as possible. He wondered if it was on purpose, if she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers. Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everyone immediately fell silent. Draco quickly wiped the blood from his temple, thankfully it wasn’t much. There was murder in Snape’s eyes this morning and he wasn’t sure even the Slytherin’s were safe.

“You will notice,” said Snape, his voice low and measured, “That we have a guest with us today.”

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and Draco saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. His jaw set. Draco appreciated any teacher who didn’t treat Potter like the celebrity he wanted to be, and the way Umbridge treated him was immensely satisfying, but there was something about the woman that made his skin crawl. No matter how much his father insisted he cozy up to her, he found himself struggling to engage. And judging by Snape’s demeanor, he was less than thrilled to be playing host to her today.

“We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly brewed, they should have matured well over the weekend. Instructions-” he waved his wand “-on the board. Carry on.”

Snape moved to the back row of the classroom to confer with Williams, likely about how she would proceed today since she wasn’t exactly here last week to start her own brew. Draco tried to focus on his own cauldron, fighting against the very strong urge to look toward the back row.

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. But she eventually rose to her feet and approached Snape, who was currently bending over Dean Thomas’ cauldron.

“Well, this class seems fairly advanced for their level,” she said briskly to Snape’s back. “Though I wonder if it is wise to add a student this late in the term who hasn’t completed their fourth year work.”

Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.

“Everyone present in this class has successfully completed the fourth year requirements,” he said slowly.

Neville’s potion let out a pop, followed by a loud whistle that slowly faded. Snapes lip twitched.

“Some more successfully than others, I presume?” Umbridge asked, jotting down a few more notes. “Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus moving forward.”

Draco didn’t dare look close enough to notice the otherwise imperceptible curl of Snape’s lip at Umbridge’s comment.

“Now… how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

“Fourteen years,” Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable.

With both professors distracted, Draco chanced a glance back at Williams. She was stirring her solution carefully, but her eyes weren’t focused on her cauldron. She was listening intently to the exchange between Umbridge and Snape.

“You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

“Yes,” Snape answered quietly.

“But you were unsuccessful?”

This time he did little to hide his distaste for her question. “Obviously.”

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

“And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?”

“Yes,” said Snape, barely moving his lips. He looked ready to explode.

“Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?” asked Umbridge.

“I suggest you ask him,” said Snape jerkily.

“Oh, I shall,” she said with a sweet smile.

“I suppose this is relevant?” Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.

“Oh yes,” said Professor Umbridge, “yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers’-er-backgrounds.”

She turned away, walking over to Pansy to question her about the lessons. Snape looked like steam would start shooting out of his ears at any moment. He glanced around the room and his gaze settled on Potter. Who, much to Draco’s amusement, had entirely screwed up his potion.

“No marks again, then, Potter,” said Snape, emptying Potter’s cauldron with a wave of his wand. “You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Potter ground out between clenched teeth.

Draco glanced back at Williams again and this time she was glaring daggers at Umbridge’s back. Her gaze flickered to him and then immediately back to her potion. And Draco wondered what the professor could have done for Williams to already be that upset with her.

When class ended and everyone was leaving, he found himself lagging behind a bit. Nothing obvious, just casually cleaning up his station a bit more thoroughly than maybe was necessary. And if that meant that he ran into Williams on the way out of the classroom, well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

She finished and walked around the tables. He steeled himself, telling himself that he could handle whatever response she gave him.

“Williams,” he said, just as she was approaching his seat.

She looked up at him briefly as she kept walking, without breaking her stride and without a word. 

The blow was worse than the one Neville had landed a few short hours ago.

* * *

Harry took his seat in the hot, overperfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom, feeling angry with everyone and this particular tower only made his temper worse. First the notice, then Quidditch, then Hedwig, then Snape, and now Professor Trelawney was handing out copies of The Dream Oracle. It felt like a complete waste of time to be sitting there interpreting made-up dreams while he could be working on Snape’s stupid punishment essay. 

Harry’s head swivelled around the room as Professor Trelawney continued to sweep between tables, slamming books down between each pair of students.

“What are you looking for?” Ron asked.

“She’s not here,” Harry said.

“Who- Oh, come on, Harry, why are you so worried about her? She’s obviously fine on her own,” Ron groaned.

“She looked fine to you, did she?”

“Well, not exactly, but that doesn’t mean you have to-”

“I’m just doing what Lupin asked me to, alright? That’s all.”

“Yeah, cause when he didn’t ask you to look out for her, you left her alone,” Ron grumbled.

“You’re the one who still thinks she’s in league with the Slytherins, you’re basically arguing that we should be keeping an eye on her.”

“Keep an eye on her then, just stop trying to be her friend. Stop trying to help her and just let her do whatever she’s doing.” He gestured vaguely. “The Ministry must have good reason for wanting her in prison, which means-”

Harry snapped his book open. “The Ministry thinks both Dumbledore and I are lying about Voldemort, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t really care about their opinion on anything at the moment.”

“Well, carry on!” said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high-pitched and somewhat hysterical, “You know what to do! Or am I such a sub-standard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?”

Everyone exchanged glances of confusion, tentatively eyeing the Professor as though she might combust. Harry had his suspicions on what was the matter. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teachers chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, he leaned his head closer to Ron’s and muttered, “I think she’s got the results of her inspection back.”

“Professor?” said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice. “Professor, is there anything-er-wrong?”

“Wrong!” cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. “Certainly not! I have been insulted, so completely… insinuations have been made that I am not… unfounded accusations is all they are… but no! There is nothing wrong.”

She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses. “I say nothing,” she choked, “of sixteen years of devoted service… apparently it has passed unnoticed… but I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!”

“But, Professor, who’s insulting you?” asked Parvati timidly.

“The Establishment!” said Professor Trelawney, in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. “Yes those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to See as I See, to Know as I  _ Know _ … of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted… alas, it is our fate.”

She gulped, dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, then she pulled a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, and blew her nose very hard, which sounded an awful lot like when Peeves blew raspberries.

Ron sniggered. Lavender shot him a disgusted look.

“Professor,” Parvati continued, “do you mean… is it something Professor Umbridge-”

“Do not speak to me about that woman!” cried Professor Trelawney as she leapt to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. “Kindly continue with your work!”

She spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still slowly leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath.

“... may well choose to leave… the indignity of it all… on probation… we shall see… how she dares…”

“You and Umbridge have got something in common,” Harry told Hermione quietly when they met again in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “She obviously reckons Trelawney’s an old fraud… looks like she’s put her on probation.”

Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness.

“Good afternoon, class.”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” they chanted dully.

“Wands away, please.”

But there was no answering flurry of movement this time, no one had bothered to take out their wands.

Harry glanced around the room and found Williams at the back, wearing a look of pure venom on her face. He blinked and it had fallen away, replaced by the vacancy of before. It was the most emotion, however brief, that he’d seen from her since she’d arrived and he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction that he had another ally that held such contempt for the woman.

“Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled  _ The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack _ , there will be-”

“-no need to talk,” Harry, Ron, and Hermione said together, under their breaths. “Or think,” Harry added bitterly.

Another glance told him that Williams had already flipped open her book to the appropriate chapter, but after watching a few moments more he realized that her eyes weren’t scanning the page.

* * *

A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, an unfortunate reminder that Quidditch practice had not gone quite the way he’d hoped. Instead of serving as a distraction from everything else, he’d remained distracted right in the path of a bludger. Twice. And he’d failed to catch the snitch. And his head was still throbbing where Longbottom had slugged his temple earlier that day. Between his father, Professor Umbridge, and now Williams being back his head had been just about every place other than the Quidditch pitch. It was difficult enough to focus on anything, let alone focus on nothing long enough to fall asleep. At least practice had left him physically exhausted enough that he might actually sleep through the night. He rolled his shoulder, attempting to ease the stiffness already setting in. He grimaced through the discomfort.

He was making his way through the corridors, back to the common room when a door opened up ahead of him. Before he could muse on who might be wandering around this late and before he realized that it was Snape’s classroom door that had opened, Williams emerged. He froze. The dungeon corridors weren’t the best lit corridors of the castle but even here in the dim light he could see her stiffen as her gaze swept over him and then past him. She hesitated a moment looking down the corridor the other way. A heartbeat later he realized the same thing she must have, there was no going the other way, they would have to cross paths.

She hoisted her bookbag up onto her shoulder and set off toward him.  _ Bloody hell _ , he thought as his stomach twisted. The sting from last time he tried to talk to her was still too fresh, too raw. She wasn’t looking at him as she drew nearer. Her shoulders were back, her gaze straight ahead. It was the least crumpled he’d seen her since she returned. Her desire to pass him by unbothered fueling her stride. She walked as close to the opposite side of the corridor as possible but she was getting closer. Close and closer and still not looking at him.

All he had to do was say something. Anything. But he couldn’t get his brain to send the signal to his mouth. He couldn’t process, couldn’t think.  _ Why _ couldn’t he  _ think? _ His chest tightened and his jaw clenched. She was getting closer. She was going to walk right past him, again. Her amber eyes were dull but they were set, determinedly on a point past him. He swallowed. Now, now,  _ now, _ he urged himself, while no one else was around. It was the perfect opportunity. But he couldn’t breathe, every muscle was paralyzed with indecision. He watched her walk right up to him, past him, and he heard her footsteps keep going. He should just let her go.

“Williams,” he pressed her name quickly over his lips before she was gone.

Her footsteps halted and hope swelled within him. He turned to see her rigid form standing a few feet away. But now his throat was coated with cotton and his brain had gone blank. He hadn’t expected her to stop at all and now the next words seemed even more important and consequently, more difficult. So much hinged on this moment, on the right words. But nothing felt right. What did you say to someone you’d shoved out of your life? How could he explain that he hadn’t wanted to do it, but  _ needed  _ to?

“Are you alright?” he asked, and immediately kicked himself for choosing the dumbest question to ask someone who’d just spent over a year in Azkaban.

She turned slowly back toward him and met his gaze squarely, her eyes flashing with a bit of torchlight.

“I’m fine,” she said.

He nodded and struggled. “I- I didn’t expect you to come back. Not after…” His voice died in his throat.

“Me neither.”

“Are you-” Why was this so bloody difficult? He clenched a fist. “How are you?”

Her eyes narrowed at him.

“What is this?” she gestured between them.

His mind lurched. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “Whatever this is, I’m not doing it.” She turned to leave.

“Wait-” he took a few steps after her before he’d registered the thought, diverting his hand midway to grabbing her arm, “-Williams, just-”

She stopped to face him again. “For what?

For what? What did he expect her to wait for? He’d never expected to get this far and honestly he wished that she would just yell at him instead of this cold indifference. Yelling he could handle, but this? This was new territory for him, he didn’t know how to deal with this.

“Look, I get it, you’re still pissed at me. But I-”

“Pissed?” she let out half of a hollow laugh, “really?”

His jaw clenched and his face burned. “What’s so funny?”

“You asking me to wait, acting like you care, pretending nothing happened. We’re not friends anymore, according to you we never were. So what am I waiting for?”

“I just-” he faltered. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but could he admit that? Could he come back from that? He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Can’t we just have a truce already?”

She scrutinized him for a moment, biting her bottom lip while she considered her reply. “This isn’t a war. It’s not a fight, or a misunderstanding. It’s nothing.” Her voice was so quiet, but it stung so much. “We’re nothing. You decided that.”

He swore the ground shifted, careening him off balance. He nearly grabbed the wall to keep from falling over, but a few measured breaths held him in place. His anger flaring.

“I just wanted to know if you were alright.”

She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again. There was something in her gaze he didn’t like, she was struggling with something. He wished she would just say it, just tell him exactly what she was thinking instead of this indifference. Then she was shaking her head.

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

“You could have just told me you were alright and moved on, you know,” he said as his anger got the better of him. “You were in prison for over a year, surrounded by dementors. Sorry I was worried enough to ask you about it.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said quietly, “try to turn this around on me. I don’t owe it to you to make you feel better. I’m not obligated to ease your worrying,” she added air quotes to the last word.

“What is this?” he said, imitating her air quotes. “I never thought I’d see you again, Williams. I-”

“So what? They haul me off to prison and suddenly you feel bad about the way you treated me?”

“No, I- Can’t we just-” he sighed. “I was afraid you’d go mad in there. I don’t want to fight anymore, I just want to know you’re okay. I just need to-”

“You know, I’m hearing a lot of ‘I was this’, ‘I want that’, and ‘I need this’ but this isn’t really about you.  _ I _ was the one in prison,  _ I _ was the one that you threw away. So forgive me if I don’t really give a damn, what you want or need right now.”

She turned on her heel and this time he couldn’t muster the will to try to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyyy, did you enjoy this chapter? It's a bit different, yeah? Hopefully not ~sooo~ different that you didn't enjoy it, but Kaelix needed some space and I thought it would be more effective to show her current state from other perspectives, did it work? Thank you as always for reading this far, stay safe until next time!


	5. Off Kilter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off Kilter

Chapter 5: Off Kilter

Kaelix navigated through the corridors on auto pilot, back toward Gryffindor Tower with a tight chest. Running into Malfoy alone in the corridor at the end of one of the longest days of her life hadn't gone the way she'd hoped. She'd expected to leave the encounter with some sense of triumph after managing to hold herself together and dismiss him so thoroughly. It was nothing she'd ever admit to but she had imagined the scenario many times. Over and over again, thinking of how it might play out. Planning just the right thing to say to make him regret what he'd done, to make him miss her. But even after successfully ignoring and dismissing him, there was no satisfaction in the hollowness that echoed through her as she'd walked away. That hollowness she found to defend herself in Azkaban.

She shook her head, banishing the memories from her mind. She'd relived them enough times already, she didn't need to revisit them again. She didn't need to feel like a fool again, she refused to believe he had been sincerely worried about her at all. She refused to be another game to him, another source of entertainment. She was done with games.

She was jarred to a halt by a sound that reeled her back in time to what felt vaguely like a dream from lifetimes ago already, despite occurring only a few short weeks ago.

_Hem, hem_.

Her entire form stiffened to counteract the way the world seemed to tilt. Spine, shoulders, jaw. Each reflex was an instinctive reaction to _that woman_.

_Hem, hem._

Kaelix turned to find that sickly sweet smile armed and ready, no doubt hiding the iron teeth that were poised to strike.

"My dear, we're out _very_ late, aren't we?"

That was all it took for Kaelix to feel like she was caught in a spider's web, tied up before she'd even seen the web.

"I was with Professor Snape. Extra lessons, to catch up on what I missed while I was-" a slight shift in Umbridge's expression had Kaelix adjusting her trajectory mid-sentence "-away."

Her smile widened and she gave an approving look that had Kaelix tightening her lips. "I'm well aware of the fact that you need a little… extra help with your studies."

There was an inflection in her words that Kaelix didn't like, nor did she like the critical, calculating way that the professor's gaze was fixated on her. There was still something of the unspoken ulterior agenda from the inquiry lingering in Umbridge's countenance. It was clear that Kaelix was the prey but she couldn't tell exactly what kind of predator Umbridge was just yet. Not that it mattered, if they wanted her back in Azkaban it would only be a matter of time before she was there. Trying to outwit the Ministry or figure out their agenda would likely only speed up the process.

"I was rather surprised that we didn't see you rejoin your fellow classmates sooner, after being released. I wonder where you disappeared to for all those weeks… when you could have been using that time to catch up on your studies?"

No one had explicitly told Kaelix not to mention Grimmauld Place to the new resident Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She'd never admit it to Remus' face but he was right, she knew better than to tell this woman anything. She felt no particular drive to figure Umbridge's game out, but she certainly wouldn't hand this woman anything either. Though it still would have been nice for someone to warn her that this peach of a woman would be one of her teachers this year. It would have been nice for someone to tell her anything.

"Thought it would be nice to take a few weeks off after-" she gestured vaguely "-all that."

Umbridge was nodding. "And where did you spend those weeks?"

This. It would have been helpful if someone had prepared her for this.

"Is that really any of your business?"

"You will find, my dear, that whatever I want to be my business, _is_ my business."

It really was amazing how she could be so menacing all while maintaining that lip cracking smile.

"This isn't an inquiry room and I haven't been slipped any veritaserum this time. So unless you're asking about stunning spells, or grindylows, or boggarts, or any other facet of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I don't have to answer your questions."

There was the smallest falter in the corner of her smile and a flicker of triumph rippled through Kaelix.

"Detention, Miss Williams."

And just like that the flicker was snuffed out.

"Report to my office tomorrow evening, seven o'clock sharp. Do not be late or there will be another day. Maybe an evening of lines will teach you to respect those in authority."

"I didn't-"

"Back talking earns you a second evening of detention, Miss Williams, would you care to continue?"

Kaelix closed her mouth, grinding her teeth. Umbridge took a step nearer to her, attempting to draw herself up to an imposing height. Somehow she managed to look down her nose at Kaelix, despite being a few inches shorter.

"Stunning spells, grindylows, and boggarts should be the least of your concern at the moment. Make no mistake, you may have weaselled yourself out of Azkaban for now, but it's only a matter of time until that changes. As the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts and ranking Ministry Official on the premises, it is my duty to root out those who might be problematic and I take that duty very, very seriously. Dumbledore won't be able to protect you forever."

Kaelix struggled with the urge to wipe that smirk of satisfaction off of Umbridge's face. But one quippy remark had already landed her two detentions, there was no telling what else this woman would try to do. The small bit of rage that had begun to boil within her was doused with the weight of her threat. Kaelix retreated a little farther within herself, reinforcing her walls.

Umbridge straightened the gaudy brooch clipped to the front of her robes, flashing equally gaudy rings on nearly every finger, and checked her wristwatch. "Oh my, look at the time. I'm afraid I have another appointment I must see to. Have a good evening, Miss Williams."

She turned and marched off down the corridor, her low heels clicking sharply with each step as if to emphasize that she had won this round and she knew it. And she knew that Kaelix knew it too. A familiar helplessness swept over her and she pushed it down, tucked it away. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing. Because what could she do? The answer was the same. Nothing. She'd keep her head down from now on, she'd fade into the background. No one would notice. They hadn't since she'd returned anyway.

It was late by the time she muttered the password to the Fat Lady but she was still surprised when the portrait swung open and revealed a nearly deserted common room. The only people present were Potter, Weasley, and Hermione, who all appeared to be nervously standing near the fireplace. Potter let out a relieved sigh when he saw her entering the room, Hermione relaxed as well, and Weasley shifted from nervous unease to annoyance.

Potter spun around and dropped into a crouch in front of the fire, "It's okay, it's just Williams."

At another time she might have been inclined to be offended by his apparent dismissal of her. But tonight she was tired. And there was a ninety percent chance that she knew who Potter was talking to and a one-thousand percent chance that she didn't care. She crossed the common room toward the girls' dormitories.

"Good to see she's left her room, I was afraid she'd forgotten how," his sneering voice carried across the room, louder than was probably wise.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand. "The _one_ benefit to coming back to Hogwarts was that I didn't have to talk to _you_ anymore."

"You and me both, hun," his head quipped from dancing flames.

"On duty for what?" Weasley asked, attempting to steer the conversation back to wherever it had been going before she'd interrupted.

"Huh?" Black said, returning his attention. "Oh, never you mind, just stuff for the Order. So it has fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell your mother that I passed it all on, because I don't think she actually trusts me to do it. Something about being reckless with my responsibilities, though that hardly seems fair."

Kaelix scoffed.

"What was that, dear? Didn't quite catch it," Black directed at her.

She leaned against the wall next to the girls' dormitories, roughly two percent curious about what led to Black being the messenger boy for Molly Weasley when the woman clearly didn't trust him with any form of responsibility at all.

"I'm surprised you managed to stop drinking long enough to step near an open flame," she said.

Black barked a laugh, "That's the beauty of magic flames."

"Are you drinking now?" Hermione asked with a note of disbelief.

"Right this second? No-"

Weasley cut in, "You don't think we should do it then?"

"What?" Black was confused for a moment but then looked offended, "Oh, certainly not! I was simply relaying a message like the _responsible adult-_ " Kaelix rolled her eyes "-I am. I happen to think it's an excellent idea."

"You do?" Potter asked.

"Of course I do," Black insisted, his eyes more alight than she'd seen them since they thought they could clear his name. "Do you think that your father, Remus, and I would have lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge? Harry, I thought you knew me better than that by now."

"But-" Potter shook his head. "Last year all you did was tell me to lay low and be careful and not take any risks-"

Black waved him off. "Last year we thought there was someone inside Hogwarts trying to kill you. This year we know there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea. You should bring the grumpy one too, I'm sure she could do with a bit of dueling practice."

Kaelix ignored his jab. "Is it really a good idea to intentionally try and piss this woman off? Seems like she has a lot of power at the moment."

"Have you got a better idea of how to deal with her?" Potter snapped. "She's not teaching us anything, she's calling Dumbledore and me liars, she's-"

"I'm not defending her, Potter, I'm just wondering what you really expect to accomplish by standing up to her? Getting everyone collective detention? Getting everyone expelled? Arrested for going against the Ministry?"

"They can't arrest us for practicing magic. This is a school, that's what we're supposed to be doing isn't it?" Weasley argued.

"She can't expel us, she doesn't have the authority," Hermione said matter of factly.

"Seems to me like she gets whatever authority the Ministry decides to give her. How long before they just kick Dumbledore out and let her run the place?" Kaelix asked.

"They can't do that," said Potter.

"I know you're still a bit gloomy, but I didn't expect you to just roll over and play dead for the Ministry's lap dogs," Black said. "I thought you had more fight than that."

"No sense in fighting a losing battle," she countered.

"What if we do get expelled? Or worse?" Hermione asked toward Black.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" Potter snapped at her.

"I know it was, I just- Kaelix has a point, Umbridge is basically assigning her own authority at this point and I just wondered what Sirius thought is all," she said with a shrug.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting like ducks in that school without a clue," said Black. "They can't arrest you for practicing magic, no matter what imaginary authority Umbridge bestows upon herself."

"Are you so sure about that?" Kaelix asked

Black shifted to look at her. "They didn't arrest you for just practicing magic, sunshine."

Asking for the first time, not in some grand gesture of anger and defiance but in a small, broken voice, "Then what did they arrest me for?"

The flames flickered and she swore there was empathy in his expression, but she dismissed it as a trick of the light. "I don't know. I'm not even sure if Dumbledore knows."

"Yeah," she said with a nod, "I've heard that one before."

"Wait, you don't even know why they arrested you?" Potter asked.

"Do you really not know the answer to that question after what you just heard?"

"But Dumbledore got you out, he has to know-" he started.

She folded her arms across her chest. "If he knows, he hasn't told me. Not that it really matters at this point."

"I told you not to do that," Black said.

"And I told you to go to hell. What do you care anyway?" she snapped.

"Told her not to do what?" Potter asked.

Black didn't respond right away, his gaze remaining trained on Kaelix a moment longer.

"Nothing," he said, turning back to Potter. "On some level she's right, do you have a place to practice where Umbridge can't find you?"

"We were actually hoping you might be able to help with that?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, um… The Shrieking Shack might work but that's probably too far," Black mused.

He started on another suggestion but Kaelix was distracted by the flash of something behind his head. It was just a glimpse of something shiny and gaudy but it reminded her of something she'd already seen. It flashed again this time her brain connected the dots. She'd seen those rings before.

"Get out of the fireplace," Kaelix ordered.

His eyes snapped to her, "What are you-"

But he broke off. His face suddenly tense, alarmed.

"Sirius?" Potter said anxiously.

"It's Umbridge, get out now!"

But he had already vanished.

The three of them exchanged a look of confusion before Potter and Weasley both turned on Kaelix.

"What are you on about?" Weasley demanded.

Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.

A hand had appeared amongst the flames, fully formed and solid where she'd just seen the vague impression moments ago. A stubby, short-fingered hand covered in gaudy old rings, groping through the air as if to catch hold of something.

The three of them sprang back from the fireplace, all watching with horror as Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements in the flames, as though she knew exactly where Black's hair had been moments before.

_I'm afraid I have another appointment I must see to._

"Did you arrange this?" Kaelix asked.

"What?" Potter snapped.

"Did you tell Black when the common room would be clear, did you set a time to meet?"

"What does that matter?"

"I ran into her just now, on my way back. She checked her watch and said she had an appointment to get to."

Potter's wide eyes told her the answer.

* * *

After yet another terrible night of sleep, Kaelix was finding it difficult to concentrate in Charms class the next morning. It was nothing new, Charms was always a difficult class to concentrate in with all the practicing, but today was particularly animated with the room full of croaking bullfrogs, cawing ravens, and chirping crickets, many of whom couldn't sit still. It was a complete downpour outside, pounding against the classroom windows, but it could barely be heard over the racket of the classroom. There was so much noise that with each passing second the desire to drop her forehead to the table was increasing exponentially.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed the headache she could already feel brewing to stay away. Just for one day. Just one single day without the pounding at her temple or the throbbing behind her eyes. That's all she was asking for. A particularly loud caw from the raven at the table behind her gave her a start. How was it possible that a class on silencing charms could be so damn loud?

She took a deep breath and tried to focus once more on the bullfrog in front of her. He stared straight back at her and croaked, as if mocking her misery. She narrowed her eyes. Drawing up her wand she silently practiced the jabbing motion of the charm a few times, committing it to muscle memory. Another loud caw from the raven behind her had her taking a longer than average blink. It really seemed like the silencing charms were having the opposite effect on most of the animals. She took aim at her own frog, pulled on a bit of magic and-

" _Silencio,_ " she said with the jab she'd rehearsed.

The frog continued to stare up at her, tilting its head a bit, blinking one eye at a time.

"Well?" she asked irritatedly.

A loud croak was her answer. She glared at the frog in return, as if he had refused to adhere to her charm out of sheer obstinance.

"Williams?" The attempt to grab her attention in a hushed but forceful whisper was more aggressive than the cawing she was now certain was increasing in volume behind her.

She glanced over at Potter, "What?"

"What exactly did Umbridge say to you last night?" he asked. Again.

She sighed and broke the unspoken staring contest she'd started with her unruly frog, who emitted another mocking croak as she looked away.

"She checked that gaudy watch of hers and then said ' _Oh my, look at the time. I'm afraid I have another appointment I must see to.'_ " she recited. "Can you just write it down this time? It's not that long."

"I told you, Harry, she's been reading your mail. There's no other explanation," Hermione said. "Oh!" she was suddenly rummaging through her book bag.

"You think she grabbed Hedwig yesterday, that's why she was injured?" Potter asked with a hint of malice in his voice.

"I've been suspecting this-" Hermione said, still rummaging, "-ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it was such a random accusation. There!" Hermione resurfaced with a rather large tome and held it out to Kaelix. "I've been meaning to bring this back to you."

Her eyes settled on the unfamiliar book and it took her a moment to realize it was the one she'd received from the rare book dealer, the one about the Wegenstehl that the Inn Man had told her about.

"Keep it," she said.

"Oh, er-" Hermione started.

"Don't you want to know what was in it?" Potter asked sharply. "We were thinking it might have something to do with why they took you."

"All the more reason to drop it then," she said, her own tone sharpening. "Preferably in the lake."

"Harry, your frog is escaping," Hermione said, returning the book to her bag.

Kaelix tried to refocus on her own frog while Potter summoned his own back across the table as it tried to escape. She didn't care whether or not Umbridge was reading Potter's mail, or anyone else's. She wouldn't send or receive any letters, problem solved. She just needed to silence this frog, survive Divination, get through detention with that god awful woman, and then she could go back to bed. Which she now knew she never should have left in the first place.

" _Silencio,"_ she said again.

But her frog croaked almost immediately.

"Anyway, Harry, once your letter had been read it would have been clear that you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all- it's just strange, isn't it? Then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? It would be easy enough for Umbridge to tip off Filch, let him confiscate the letter, then either steal it from him or just demand to see it. I'm sure Filch would be happy to help her terrorize students. Harry, you're squishing your frog."

Kaelix glanced over and found that Potter had indeed squeezed his bullfrog so tightly that its eyes were popping out. He hastily put it back on the desk. She let her eyes fall closed again, trying to ignore their conversation. But it was so hard to block anything out, every sound was grating.

"It was a very, very close call last night," said Hermione. "I just wonder if she realizes how close she got and to what. _Silencio_."

The bullfrog that Hermione had been practicing on was silenced mid-croak and Kaelix felt some miniscule sense of relief at the tiny reduction in noise. As if sensing her relief at the silence of one of his fellow frogs, her frog emitted a rather loud croak, which prompted another glare from Kaelix. She reached for the magic and pulled a bit harder than the last time, pulling that stream into a small pool of magic to cast over the insufferable frog.

" _Silencio!"_

Her frog still managed an obstinate croak, though it did seem somewhat quieter than before.

"If she'd caught Snuffles he'd be back in Azkaban this morning," Potter said.

Kaelix hardly noticed as he waved his wand nonchalantly and his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle. Nor did she notice when Hermione hastily pointed her wand at the inflating frog and quickly reversed the swelling before the frog ballooned so far that it popped. Kaelix certainly wasn't as close to being back in Azkaban as Black was, since it seemed that most of the wizarding world still thought he was a mass murderer. But with Umbridge patrolling the school and watching her, how many steps away from landing herself back in Azkaban was she really? What would it take for them to cart her off again, and how was she supposed to avoid giving them exactly what they needed when she didn't even know what it was.

Weasley's repeated shouting of the spell broke through her thoughts, his raven cawing louder with each shout.

"It's the way you're moving your wand," Hermione instructed, "you don't want to wave it, it's more of a sharp jab."

"Ravens are harder than frogs," Weasley said through clenched teeth.

"Fine, let's swap then," she said, seizing Weasley's raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. " _Silencio!"_ The raven opened and closed its sharp beak repeatedly but no more sound came out.

Weasley sulked and glared from his seat beside her.

Kaelix attempted to refocus yet again on her own still croaking toad. She pulled harder on the magic, tried to pool a bit more of it up. More advanced spells must take more magic, she reasoned, feeling the warmth of it build.

" _Silen-"_ she faltered mid-cast, noticing the subtle glow that had started forming at her fingernails.

She still felt the magic sweep out and away from her, blanketing her frog and several surrounding animals in the half cast charm. She quickly dropped her hands to her lap, hiding the apparent abnormality. Her mind was racing. Was that it, was that what the Ministry had been looking for? What Umbridge was still looking for? She'd never seen anyone else at Hogwarts, teacher or student, ever have a similar effect happen to them while casting magic. No one had ever mentioned anything like this to her, she'd never read about it, never seen it on anyone apart from herself. Then she noticed with equal parts relief and worry, that her frog and several of the animals adjacent to her were all gaping noiselessly, some of the students looking perplexed at their silent subjects.

She didn't attempt any more charms for the rest of class. She just sat quietly, too afraid to check her fingernails, and too afraid not to.

When Charms was dismissed for the morning, Kaelix ducked out before Potter could ask her what exactly Umbridge had said the night before for the thirteenth time that day. She made the long trek to the north tower for Divination. The weather continued to rage outside with heavy sheets of rain keeping the students cooped up and crowding the corridors during their break periods. There was a stream of Slytherins descending the spiral stair from what must have been their own Divination lesson. Kaelix kept her gaze fixed on the robes of the student ascending in front of her. The absolute last thing she wanted to do today was have another run in with Malfoy, least of all in a crowded staircase.

Someone knocked shoulders with her and she barely caught herself before stumbling backward down the stairs. The piercing voice carried above all the other murmuring that filled the space.

"I'm sure it's only a matter of time," her voice carried above everything else. "If you ask me they never should have allowed her to come in the first place. She'll either flunk out or end up back in prison."

Kaelix didn't need to look to know who it was. The comment, the inflection, the laughs. She could imagine the side eyes and snarky looks that her entourage was giving her. But none of this stopped her from glancing back down the stairs. Pansy Parkinson seemed to have regained some semblance of her nerve in the months Kaelix had been away. Her eyes were alight with glee as the other Slytherins laughed at her remarks. Stronger in a pack, she supposed.

She didn't see him until he was already past her, his blonde hair catching the light. He shoved past Pansy with no apparent regard for whether she stayed on her feet at all. Pansy emitted an offended huff and threw a glare at his back. Kaelix turned back to ascending the stairs, trying to push all thoughts of that blonde hair from her mind and failing, horribly. She wondered if he'd seen her, if he'd laughed at Pansy's remark, if he even noticed her at all. And she cursed herself for it.

A hand appeared on her arm and pulled her into an alcove near the top of the staircase.

"What the-"

"I come in peace," Nott said, holding up his hands.

She immediately drew her arms across her chest and a scowl set in.

Nott smiled uneasily. "Nice to see you too then."

She moved to leave but he threw an arm out to block her path.

"Please, just hear me out. Five minutes. That's all I ask."

She hesitated. Torn in two by the desire to walk out and never see him again, and the desire to stay and hear an apology.

"Or if you won't talk to me, just talk to him, please," Nott said.

She pursed her lips, simultaneously furious and elated by Nott's request. He had no right to ask her to do this, but some part of her lit up at his words. Because the truth was she never wanted to see or hear from any of them ever again, but she also wanted to know that they were all miserable without her. She never wanted to speak to him again, but all she wanted was to talk to him. She didn't want to care, she shouldn't care after the way he'd treated her, and yet here she was, foolishly drawn to the prospect of hearing that Malfoy was miserable without her, that he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't stand the memory of how he'd treated her. But she didn't want to care, so she withdrew. Inch by inch, folding back into herself, to that place that had grown so comfortable.

"He's miserable without you, you know."

She swallowed. Of course he'd know just what to tell her to try to draw her out, to play to her weak spot. That's how manipulation worked after all.

"I'm sure he'll live," she offered.

"I'm not," he said plainly.

She shook her head. "Don't be so dramatic, it's unbecoming."

"I'm not being dramatic, Williams, you don't- Look, there are things you don't know."

"Yeah, that's how we got here, isn't it?"

"That's not-" He emitted a defeated sigh. "I don't know what he said to you last year but he's been miserable ever since. And when we found out where they'd taken you… Merlin, I don't think he slept for a week."

"So what, I'm supposed to feel bad for him? Tell him everything is okay now so he can feel better about himself? That's not my responsibility."

"No, that's not what I meant." He rubbed his forehead. "I only meant that he cares and if you think he doesn't because of whatever he said, then you're wrong."

"He certainly has a shitty way of showing it if he does."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. He's complete shit at showing it in anything resembling a normal way, but if you look, if you _really_ look you'll see. He's spiraling, Williams, and I don't think he can stop himself."

"It's not my job to stop him from self-destructing, and even if it was, how do I know this isn't just another game to all of you? Let's all see just how damaged Williams is, maybe we can get her to fall for the same prank twice, is that the plan? It's not going to happen."

Nott just stared at her for a moment and she felt his gaze slip through her, like he could see everything.

"He's not the only one self-destructing, is he?" he asked.

She hated the look in his eyes, the pity, but she also wanted to fold herself up into it. This is exactly what she'd asked for, wasn't it? For someone, anyone to care. But she hadn't wanted it to be them. Not the ones who had toyed with her. Because how could she ever trust that they weren't doing it all over again?

"Merlin, Williams-"

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Yeah," he said with a nod, "yeah, that's what he's been saying this whole time too. But you're both lousy liars."

"He's the liar, not me," she snapped. "I'm going to be late for class."

"No one's going to care if you're on time for class if you're a ghost when you show up."

"Seems to me like you have it backwards," she said.

"I really thought they would have done a better job than this," he said with a note of disbelief.

"I told you, I'm _fine_."

"No, you're not. And pretending you are isn't going to just magically make it true."

His words stung, tipping over a well within her. "I have to go." She tried to brush past him.

He grabbed her wrist and she stuttered. His grip was firm, solid, grounding. He didn't say anything more, he wasn't holding her firmly enough to keep her there, he was just holding onto her. But she had told herself she wouldn't fall for another round of their jokes and she wasn't about to let this be the tactic that broke through her resolve. She pulled her hand free of his grasp and he let her go.

She was the last to ascend the ladder up into the heavily perfumed classroom and wished she could be almost anywhere else. Almost. Only Divination and detention and then she could go back to bed. She slid into a seat at a table near the back with two Hufflepuffs and an over excited looking Gryffindor with a camera around his neck. Professor Trelawney was in a rare form today, Kaelix had never seen her in anything close to this state. She was slouched in her lavish armchair and didn't exhibit any of her typical inner eye obscurity that Kaelix remembered from third year. Perhaps she dropped the act for the older students, but Kaelix doubted that was the case.

"Please continue where we left off last week with your Cleromancy readings," she instructed dispassionately from her spot in front of the fire.

"Are you Kaelix Williams?" the chipper boy with the camera asked.

She stared at him a moment before nodding slowly.

"I'm Colin Creevey, fourth year Gryffindor. I've heard about you, have you really been in Azkaban for the last year and a half? That's where Harry said you were, anyway. Are you good friends with Harry? I still can't even believe we're in the same house as him sometimes. I mean, how lucky is that? To be in the same house as _the_ Harry Potter. Just finding out we'd be at the same school was nearly enough to faint over, but then to be sorted into the same house?! I thought I was going to pass out right on the spot when the sorting hat called Gryffindor. It's such an honor. Would you mind me taking your photo? I've got several of Harry and all his friends, I'd love one of you as well. It's a great way to share this with my parents, them being muggles and all, they've never been to Hogwarts. Sometimes I think they wouldn't believe half of what I told them about the castle if I didn't have my camera to get proof. But then, if I hadn't seen all of this for myself, I'd be pretty skeptical too. So what do you think, do you mind a photo?"

Kaelix blinked, trying to figure out if he'd taken a breath in the middle of all that somehow or if he had enough practice talking at light speed that he didn't need one. He was holding his camera up in question. Of course she'd ended up with the chattiest fourth year in the school.

"Er- maybe another time."

He looked disheartened for about half a second but quickly set his camera aside and resumed talking.

"This is your first class back, right? First Divination class anyway. We're in the middle of Cleromancy but I can catch you up." He glanced over his shoulder and continued in a quieter voice, "I think we were supposed to have moved on by now, but Professor Trelawney has been upset ever since Professor Umbridge reviewed her performance. Not much to Cleromancy, if you ask me. Mostly just rolling the dice and trying to make some kind of sense of what comes up." His voice returned to normal levels and he began unpacking the box that had been left out on the table. "You're muggle born, right? Ever played with a magic eight ball? It's kind of like that, you can read all about it in the spellbook but it's the same idea. Just think of a question you'd want answered or a problem you need help solving, then you shake the dice seven times and dump the container over on the board. They'll show numbers or symbols, and you can use the spellbook to help you interpret what they mean, but they're supposed to be personal to the one shaking and casting the dice, so it's mostly up to you to figure out the meaning."

He held a small container out for her. She took it and was surprised by it's warmth. The box that had contained the Cleromancy dice had unfolded to a small sort of tray. She rattled the container in one hand.

"I think it's empty?"

"Oh, no, it just feels that way. Trust me, give it seven good shakes and then just-" he gestured in a throwing motion toward the board "-roll them out on the board. They'll fall right out."

To the part of Kaelix who had grown up as a muggle, the part of her that thought after over a year in prison, maybe she'd just dreamed up the entire wizarding world after all, that part of her thought it was so very strange that a container could appear empty, could feel empty, but then produce dice. Then there was the part of her that was falling back into the rhythm of the wizarding world, the part that had read textbooks cover to cover, and brewed more potions than any other student, the part of her that had cast magic and seen a watch transformed into a bird by her own command. That part of her wasn't surprised in the least to know that the seemingly empty container would produce dice out of thin air. In fact it was one of the less impressive things if she really stopped to think about it.

A quick glance about the room told her there wasn't any real method to the shaking, so she gave it seven solid shakes before spilling the contents over the tray. Just as Colin had said, seven seven-sided dice rolled across the tray, tumbling to a halt across its surface. They were all blank.

"Oh," said Colin, "did you think of a prompt for the reading? They come up blank if you didn't think of a prompt or if your prompt was too vague."

Kaelix gathered the dice and deposited them back into the soundless, weightless container and contemplated what she could prompt them with. There wasn't anything she was particularly interested in learning at the moment. Obviously there were questions she didn't have answers to, like who had ratted her out to the Ministry and gotten her carted off to Azkaban, and why. Or the identity of the Inn Man and whether or not he was telling the truth about Austin. There was the question of whether or not Malfoy was telling the truth about his worry for her, and the same could be wondered about Nott. Then she thought of that damn glowing in her fingertips, what had caused that was most definitely a mystery. So many possibilities, but she felt apathetic to them all. And what did it really matter anyway, what could this fortune telling wanna-be Yahtzee game really tell her about any of that?

She shook the container again, settling on the much more vanilla prompt of how her final exams would go. No harm in answering that question, if the dice really were producing any kind of reliable answers that is. When they rolled from the container this time, they were all covered in symbols and numbers. Colin's eyes went wide.

"Wow, look you've managed to get lots of different answers. What did you ask? Unless you don't want to tell me, that's fine if it's private, but wow, all the dice look different. I've never managed that before!"

_Great_ , Kaelix thought, _another abnormality for the Ministry to add to their list of suspicions against me_. At least Umbridge wasn't auditing this class today.

"I only asked how exams would go next year," she said.

"Oh, that's great! I bet each die is about one of your classes. Here, let's see-" he flipped open his spellbook to the appropriate chapter and scanned a few pages, grabbing the first die, he eagerly set about deciphering her future "-this one here has a sun, a tree, and… a knot. That doesn't sound too bad! Maybe it's about Herbology? I bet it is, considering the tree. A knot could indicate complexity, but there are far more suns, so that could be a general indication of good news. I bet this one means you'll do well in your Herbology exam! That seems straightforward enough, yeah, should we keep going? How about this one next?"

He plucked another die off the tray and studied the symbols on all seven faces with a wrinkled concentration. "This one has two Ws… er- no maybe they're Ms? I can't tell which way they're supposed to be, but there's also two snakes- wait, no, three snakes but one is wrapped around a staff, and then the other two sides are skulls. Oh dear, that doesn't sound good. Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures? Hopefully this doesn't mean that one of your creatures dies, that would be awful, but- oh! Snakes can symbolize cunning, so maybe it's more your behavior, rather than an actual animal? And then there's the skulls, those don't look too friendly at all do they. There's the obvious meaning, but in terms of your prompt it's probably more a symbolic death?"

Kaelix let him continue to chatter on, describing each die in detail. What symbols were shown, the different ways they could be interpreted, which class they were most likely to apply to. He even made note of the blank sides on some of them. One of the dice was identical to the second one he'd described with the snakes, and others shared similar symbols. But across the board, Kaelix wasn't sure what any of it was supposed to mean.

Two of the dice had strange overlapping Vs with lines through the center, though Colin pointed out that they could be arrows or even mountains. Each of these two dice had a set of numbers: 4, 2, and 6 on the first one, and 5, 0, and 8 on the second. She shook her head when he asked if any of those numbers held any significance to her. The remaining sides of those dice were blank. He supposed they were related to elements of her OWLs for Charms or Transfiguration, though he wasn't very confident.

The next one had several stars wrapped around it, fourteen if Colin's counting was to be believed. Adjacent to the stars were two eyes, one open and one closed. Though with the combination of the eyes and the stars he wasn't sure whether this particular die was communicating about her Divination exam or her Astronomy exam. Either way it seemed she had a fifty-fifty shot at it. Then there was the last die, the one covered in Xs. He assured her that it probably wasn't as bad as it seemed, seven large Xs on each face of the die didn't have to mean she'd fail each of her seven exams. But it wasn't out of the question. She would have been more concerned if the entire thing didn't feel so random.

What did it matter if there were two identical dice with the snakes and the skulls and the M that might also be a W? Even if these dice could answer her questions or predict the future, would knowing any of it make a difference? She certainly didn't think so at the moment.

Colin was more than happy to yammer on at length over all of her dice. She could tell he was impressed by how different each one was because he told her that, several times. Kaelix was more than happy to sit back and let him decipher the meaning in the numbers and symbols, answering most of his probing questions with a shake of her head or a murmur of agreement. Colin carried most of the conversation all by himself, spending the better part of class on her dice, before gathering them up to do his own reading. His chatter was somewhat narrating as he told her what he was doing every step of the way, including what he was asking. He asked the dice a self proclaimed silly question, since he'd already asked so many others, about whether or not he'd graduate from Hogwarts. It was such an easy question, he reasoned, that the answer should be obvious.

When he rolled the dice from the container they turned up as numbers. Colin was perplexed. He examined all of the dice and informed her that three of the dice were covered in 5s and 1s and the other four dice were covered in 1s and 4s. An obvious answer indeed. But after a few pondering minutes he thought he had it figured out. Each number corresponded to a letter of the alphabet, which meant the 5s stood for Es, the 1s stood for As, and the 4s stood for Ds. All of which were grades students could receive on their NEWT exams during their final year of Hogwarts. He declared his reading a success and tried not to dwell on the prospect of receiving a D on one of his NEWT exams.

Kaelix let out a sigh of relief when the bell to signal the end of class finally sounded.

"That was a great class, thanks for being my partner, Kaelix. Tell Harry I said 'Hi' when you see him, will you? See you at dinner!" And he took off with his other fourth year classmates.

* * *

That evening, as Kaelix made her way down to Umbridge's office on the third floor, a strange, unsettled feeling draped over her, building the entire way there. She jerked to a stop outside in the corridor as she realized why the pit of her stomach was gaping. Some of the disorientation of Azkaban, of the lack of sleep had remained and it hadn't occurred to her until just now that she was walking a familiar route. What was so unsettling was the familiarity and the foreignness colliding into a storm. Because she had been here before, so many times. But this wasn't the same, and it never would be again.

It took several moments of slow measured breaths to convince herself that her stomach was settled enough to enter the familiar office. Ideally she'd have more time, or not be here at all, but under no circumstance was she about to be late for this detention. Resolutely, she entered the classroom and crossed to knock on the office door, hoping the meager dinner she'd eaten wouldn't come back up.

"Come in," that too sweet voice called through the door.

She took one last breath to shore herself up before entering the room, unsure of what exactly she expected to find. It was a stark contrast to how she remembered it as her gaze swept around the room. The difference was enough to throw her off balance and stifle any sort of deja vu she had been experiencing. Remus hadn't been overly flashy with his decor when he'd occupied the space, but there had been plenty of books, a few personal items, and the tank containing a grindylow for most of the year. It had been simple and understated, it had been welcoming, a familiar place. It had been Remus.

Now it was unrecognizable. It looked like she'd fallen into a cloud of cotton candy, lace, and kittens. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each delicately painted vase centered on its own lacy doily. The walls were a muted pink, with rows and rows of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. She wondered briefly if those kittens had been alive at some point, prior to being trapped and put on display. The room was thick with sweet perfume that rivaled Professor Trelawney's classroom.

There wasn't anything particularly vile or foul about any of these things individually, but the combination of everything together and the sheer amount of it was overwhelming and somewhat intimidating. Something in her chest cracked as she surveyed the room that once felt so familiar but now felt like a trap. It was too close to home, yet another thing that had been ripped from her and would never be the same again.

"Good evening, Miss Williams."

She nearly blended into the room with her rosy pink robes, which almost matched exactly the lace tablecloth that was draped over the desk. It was the same desk. Her mind flashed back to that image of Remus leaning against it the day she'd confronted him about being a werewolf. The look on his face when she'd said she didn't care. She took a steady breath to keep herself from wobbling.

"Evening," she said, her voice hollow.

"Sit down," she ordered, gesturing to the corner.

The small table in the corner where the grindylow tank used to sit was also draped in pink lace. A straight-backed chair that had been drawn up beside it looked about as comfortable as sitting on pins and needles. There was a single piece of blank parchment laying on the table, just waiting for her.

"You're going to be doing some lines for me. No, no, dear, you won't be needing your quill," she added as Kaelix had reached for her bag. "You're going to be using one of mine for the evening."

She moved around the desk- _the_ desk, because it wasn't _her_ desk -and handed Kaelix a long, thin black quill, probably the only thing in the room that wasn't some shade of pink. It had an unusually sharp point and looked like it may very well cut straight through the parchment. Kaelix dropped into the seat, hanging her bag over the back of the chair.

"I would like you to write ' _I will respect those in authority'_ ," she said softly.

Kaelix slid a finger down the length of the quill smoothing the feather out, resisting the spark of rage that lit within her. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to fan it to flames or smother it. The quill felt tainted, dark, abrasive in her hand. There was another shoe dropping somewhere.

"How many times?" she asked.

"As long as it takes, Miss Williams," Umbridge said in that sickly sweet voice of hers.

She moved over to her desk and sat down, leaning over a stack of parchment. Kaelix caught sight of Trelawney's name on the top piece before she turned to her own parchment. She rolled the quill between her fingers.

"You haven't given me any ink?"

The smile on Umbridge's face curled farther up her cheeks and she said around a laugh, "You won't need any ink, dear."

She could feel Umbridge's beady little eyes on her as she poised the quill at the top of the parchment. Something wasn't right about this and she had a feeling that Umbridge was waiting on bated breath for her to figure it out. Resolving to face it as head on as possible, she pressed the quill against the parchment and wrote: _I will respect those in authority._

She drew in a sharp hiss of a breath. The words had appeared on the parchment in shining, bright red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of her left hand, cut into her skin as though traced there by a scalpel, just as she'd imagined the quill doing to the parchment. Yet even as she stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly red but smooth as ever. She knew Umbridge was watching her, knew without looking up that her toadlike smile was stretched wide. Kaelix had found the other shoe.

She took a breath and placed the tip of the quill down once more, writing out the words _I will respect those in authority,_ and braced for the pain of each letter cutting into her skin. She watched as seconds later they healed over again in the same order they were written. The stubborn part of her refused to react and it felt like both defiance and defeat to remain silent as she cut into her own hand once more. Again and again, writing out those words so carefully chosen to mock and scold her with each slice and cut. Line by line.

It didn't take her long to realize that it was not ink, magically pouring from the end of the quill, it was her blood. The realization should have spurred something in her. It should have made her stand up, break the quill, and walk out. It should have sent her into a tirade against Umbridge, lecturing her on just how inhumane and illegal this must be. It should have made her do _something_. But all she did was continue to write out those words. Over and over and over again, slice after painful slice.

Darkness had long since fallen outside the castle but still she kept writing, kept drawing her own blood for Umbridge's sport. The stitching of the skin back together stung nearly as much as cutting it open. Her entire hand throbbed and the longer she wrote the longer it took for the skin to heal itself. At some point, the brief time between lines was no longer enough for the skin to knit back together, and it remained a raw open wound. Still she refused to even so much as blink in Umbridge's direction, refused to slow her writing. If nothing else, she would not give Umbridge the satisfaction of thinking she had won with this underhanded tactic.

A small drop of blood slid from the edge of the I and she shifted to make sure it didn't drip off and stain the tablecloth.

"Come here," she said abruptly.

Kaelix placed the tortuous quill on the desk and stood, doing everything in her power to keep her left hand still as it throbbed, and also to keep herself upright as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

"Hand."

Kaelix held out her left hand, trying to school the discomfort from her features. The letters were slowly starting to stitch themselves back together again. The surrounding skin was red, raw, and splotchy. Umbridge took her hand and examined the partially closed wounds. Kaelix resisted the overwhelming urge to jerk her hand out of her stubby fingers.

"Mmm, seems we made a bit of an impression," she said, smiling. "Though not as much as I had hoped."

Kaelix stifled a yelp as Umbridge rotated her hand slightly, causing it to twitch with pain. She drew air in through her nose and forced it out through her lips. Tears pressed at her eyes and she took a few longer blinks to keep them at bay. She sucked in her bottom lip to cover the trembling.

"Do you feel that?" she asked, releasing her hand at last.

She refused to acknowledge the question. Surely the vindictive professor didn't mean the pain.

" _That_ is what it is to know your limits, to know your place in the world and to concede to it. I think we both know where your rightful place is." She paused, lifting her gaze to Kaelix's face which Kaelix met with as much indifference as she could muster. "Murderers, werewolves, traitors, and the like. Those who belong in captivity will always end up there. One way or another."

Her words hung thick in the air.

_One way or another._

Not a threat. A promise.

Her cheeks flushed. How could she be so stupid to think that her stubborn defiance at refusing to look at Umbridge or acknowledge the pain of the quill would give her any sort of power in this situation? What did her defiance get her, what did it accomplish? She was still standing there with a sliced up hand and Umbridge was still smiling, pulling the strings. There was nothing she could do, and Umbridge knew it.

"If you speak out of turn with me again, Miss Williams, you will find yourself back here for many, many more evenings. Until you've learned to adhere to the proper order of things." That cruel, cruel smile never leaving her lips. "You may go for this evening, but you will return at the same time tomorrow."

Kaelix left without a word. She had no idea how late it was and if she had ever managed to regain some semblance of a normal sleeping pattern she might have cared. But truth be told she was grateful it was past curfew, grateful she didn't run into another soul as she traversed the corridors and climbed the floors in a bit of a trance, trying to block out the throbbing in her left hand. Her right hand was trembling and she tried to shake it away. She clenched and unclenched it, shaking it sharply several times, as if she might shake the very memory of the evening from herself.

There was a sort of cruel irony about all of this. In how she'd thought, for just a split second as she was leaving that horrible island, that it might be easier to just stay there. To just give up. Right now the part of her that had thought that was winning. The thought welled up within her, threatening to drown her. She was helpless in all of this. Dumbledore, the Ministry, Umbridge. They were the ones with the power, they were the ones in control. And she was losing it.

Her steps quickened, her blood pounded in her ears, and her breaths stuttered in sharp gasps as she climbed staircases back to- back to where? She couldn't go back to the dorms, not now. She needed to- She needed- She-

She tripped.

The one good thing about her kneecap colliding with the cold hard stone floor was that it distracted her brain momentarily from the pain in her hand. Until her hands connected with the same stone floor. She rolled to her right side, cradling her cut hand. A few portions of the cuts had torn open when she'd broken her fall. Tears pressed at her eyes and she just laid there for a few minutes, knowing she couldn't stay there forever but half heartedly contemplating the idea. Her lip trembled, it wasn't fair. None of this was anywhere close to fair. How could they just expect her to come back here, to this place, and pretend everything was fine when nothing was anywhere near fine?

She teetered at the edge of the abyss, it was a familiar place. She'd visited it many, many times in Azkaban. That line at the edge of giving up. She'd wondered several times in that small concrete cell, whether they had managed to take her soul without her knowing it. Sometimes she still felt that way, sometimes it lasted for hours, other times it lasted for days. She wondered if the numbness would ever recede entirely or if it would keep returning like the tide to wash her out and leave her raw with nothing but her own empty human shell.

She'd gotten good at surviving the dementors, but maybe that was the problem. Maybe she'd gotten too good at repressing those memories, those feelings they fed off of. She'd gotten too good at hollowing herself out as a defense mechanism, and now even with the threat removed, she couldn't quite find her way back to that unhollow state. Carrying things was so much more difficult, so much heavier than leaving them all behind to turn to dust.

Her unseeing gaze blinked back into focus and she noticed the door on the wall in front of her. She looked up the corridor to try to place herself, one thought at a time.

She was on the seventh floor.

She was down a side corridor not far from the Fat Lady.

She'd been here before.

She knew that door in front of her.

But she didn't.

Same location.

Different door.

She pushed herself up off the ground with her uninjured hand, still stinging from the fall. She was so, so tired. Mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. She needed help- she needed… something- she needed- And here was this door. It would have been a punch to the gut if she was more coherent. But she was hollow and off kilter and there was this door. She remembered this door that was different than before and the memory of what lay beyond it. But it was muted, a dull echo of the experience and the person she'd shared it with.

She stood and approached the door. This door was intricately carved with leaves, flowers, and birds. And before she knew what she was doing, she was swinging it open into a room that looked nothing like what she'd found here before. Gone was the vast expanse of discarded and abandoned things, and in its place stretched a clearing surrounded by forest. Despite being the middle of the night as well as the interior of a castle, the forest was dappled with sunlight filtering through the trees. Kaelix stepped over the threshold and into a cool bank of air. The clear scent of pine and rain filling her senses. She took a few measured steps into the 'room' and let the door swing closed behind her.

As soon as the door closed, birds started chirping in the distance. Birds in the middle of the castle didn't seem as strange as trees in the middle of the castle, let alone the entirety of Narnia. She stepped farther in and the sunlight warmed her skin. A piece of her marvelled at the serenity of this little oasis and how it was here. The answer was obviously magic but it felt like a different kind. Like it was in the air.

At the center of the clearing was a stone pedestal that looked something like a birdbath. She ventured closer and upon further inspection decided that it was too clean to be a birdbath, but it certainly looked like one. She circled the pedestal and half way around she could have sworn she saw a deer to her left through the trees. As she came full circle around the pedestal her gaze swept around the forest, trees as far as she could see in every direction. The only thing apart from the pedestal that wasn't forest, was a gilded mirror across the clearing, which she dismissed for now. She glanced back to the door, which remained solidly in place, though this side of the wall looked much different than the corridors of the castle, sunbleached and overrun with ivy.

The pedestal called to her, a silent, welcoming note. She rolled up her sleeve a few folds before she even registered the idea. Her hand still throbbed and the water in the stone basin beckoned. Bracing herself in case this backfired and stung, but even as she steeled herself she knew it wasn't necessary. She sighed as relief washed over her hand and for the first time since she'd stepped outside that gods forsaken prison, she felt some of the weight lift off of her. The tightness in her chest loosened and the perpetual fog that clouded her mind cleared somewhat.

She watched her hand beneath the surface of the water as the redness receded from her skin. The portions of the letters that had remained open from her fall were stitching back together. After a few minutes in the water, or whatever the liquid was, the only thing left of the nightmarish wound was the ghost of the letters left behind in faint red lines where the skin had been most irritated. She tentatively flexed her hand beneath the surface and even though the skin pulled a bit, it was nowhere near as painful as it had been. When she pulled her hand from the liquid, it was completely dry and the skin smooth to her touch.

Her curiosity shifted to the gilded mirror across the clearing. It was perched on a sort of stone platform built up a few steps off the ground. She scanned the intricate frame as she approached, unable to place exactly why it felt familiar. From across the clearing the mirror had seemed a bit dull, time worn and scuffed, but the closer she got, the clearer it looked. The surface was unmarred in it's reflection back at her. Her eyes scanned the letters at the top of the frame, _erised eurt straeh ruoy tub ecaf ruoy ton wohs I_. Her expression scrunched in thought as she tried to sort out the mess of letters strung together. When her gaze dropped back down to the mirror she nearly jumped backward at what she saw.

Her ears registered a noise that sounded very much like the turning of a knob and the swing of a door but she couldn't bring herself to look away from the mirror. There were a few footsteps into the grass behind her and somewhere deep in her subconscious she knew whoever it was couldn't mean her any harm. They wouldn't have been allowed in if they had. She swallowed a lump in her throat and sank to her knees, while her reflection remained standing. She gazed up at the warm faces and reached out to touch the mirror. With no reflection of her hand it felt like she was watching a recording of herself from some other time. Except it wasn't any other time, it was all of them, right now, as they could have been.

A closer footstep behind her and a cleared throat had her withdrawing her hand sharply. She collected herself and schooled her features as best she could before glancing over her shoulder to see who had joined her. Of course it was Potter, who else would have been the one to find her here? Though she supposed he wasn't the worst option, given all of the castle's residents.

"I didn't follow you here, I swear," he said from a few paces off.

A silent scoff graced her lips but she still didn't look his direction. It actually hadn't even occurred to her that he might have followed her, how could he when she'd come straight from an hours long detention. He walked up a few feet off to her right and her peripheral vision caught some motion. A glance in his direction revealed that he was flourishing a small white flag from the tip of his wand. The corner of her mouth twitched.

Undeterred by her less than antagonistic response to his surrender, he waved his flag away and gestured to the ground next to her. She shifted a little to the left in answer, leaving him room to sit in front of the mirror as well, before shifting her gaze back to the four figures inhabiting the mirror. He dropped to the ground next to her and turned his own gaze to the mirror, an easy smile gracing his features. It hadn't occurred to her until now that he might be able to see what she saw in the reflection that wasn't quite a reflection, but even as she contemplated it, she knew he couldn't. The mirror was intricate, personal, and magic. It was showing her something just for her. Even with Potter sitting right beside her, he couldn't see what it held for her, just as she couldn't see what he looked at now.

"Mesmerizing, isn't it?" he asked.

She certainly didn't want to look away. But something else scratched at her, some small prick of unease had crept under her skin as she sat there in front of this image that she knew wasn't real.

"I've spent… several hours staring at this thing," he admitted, with the hint of a laugh.

Part of her understood. If it was showing him anything like what it was showing her, she understood the desire to sit here and let himself disappear into the image. But the other part of her started quietly protesting; it wasn't real.

"The first time I found this mirror was part way through my first year. I spent so many nights sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower just to come sit and stare at it."

It wasn't real, that logical part of her reasoned, no matter what it showed her or him. It wasn't real.

"It's called the Mirror of Erised," he continued. "I show not your face but your heart's true desire."

She glanced sideways at him.

He gestured to the top of the golden frame, to the words she'd puzzled over moments ago. "It's mirrored. It's what the mirror shows you, the thing you want most."

Anxiety rose in her chest and her soul clenched. Of course that was the answer.

"It shows me my mum and dad, and myself without this," he pointed to the scar on his forehead. "That's why I snuck out of bed all those nights. I guess part of me knew it wasn't real, but I couldn't help it, I wanted to get lost in the idea of what could have been. If it weren't for Voldemort."

He paused and she figured it was only a matter of moments before he asked her what she saw. There was a hug exchanged between the figures in the mirror and she dropped her gaze.

When she still didn't say anything he continued. "Then one night I showed up and it was gone, and I found Dumbledore waiting for me. He must have known I'd been sneaking out for weeks, even brought Ron with me once. But Dumbledore said it wouldn't do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live, and I never thought I'd see it again after that. Then there was the whole fiasco with Voldemort and the Sorcerer's Stone…" his eyes were distant, caught in a memory that he shook himself back out of. "After that I thought for sure I'd never see it again. I have to hand it to Dumbledore though, this is a brilliant place to hide it."

"Why?" she asked, surprising herself with the question.

He glanced at her, apparently equally surprised. "Because this is the Room of Requirement, a unique part of the castle that only appears to those who are in need of something. Dumbledore told me last year that it once appeared for him as a room full of chamber pots."

"Chamber pots?"

Potter nodded, "Apparently he was in desperate need."

"Isn't there a bathroom just down the corridor?"

Potter thought for a moment and then his brow furrowed. "Huh, that's strange. But he did tell me that the mirror showed him receiving socks as a present, which later on I figured was probably not true."

A short silence fell between them, while they both watched their respective figures in the mirror.

"How did you end up here? If you didn't follow me," she asked.

"Oh, I er- I actually came to see if the room was really here and see if I could make it appear. I was thinking we could use it for our defense lessons. I imagine it would look different, if I'd beaten you here."

"Defense lessons?"

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his unruly hair. "After that last Educational Decree she issued, we need a place where Umbridge can't find us. This seems like our best bet at the moment. How did you end up here?"

She felt a bit of heat rise in her cheeks as she recalled tripping in the corridor. "I, uh… I was on my way back from detention and I guess I just… needed a break."

"Detention? With Umbridge?" He asked with a raised brow.

She felt his gaze track to her hands and she reflexively folded them into her robes.

"You're still welcome to join us if you want, for the lessons. Not sure if you'll like the instructor anymore than the actual professor though," he said.

It might have been the first time that he'd managed to say something in the same realm as the right thing.

"It's my second day back from prison and you're already asking me to join an unsanctioned after school group set on rebelling against the Ministry? Are you mad?"

"Well, when you say it like that…"

She shook her head. "How else would you say it, Potter?"

He glanced around like he might find the answer in the trees somewhere. Then he shrugged and laughed a bit, shaking his head, "I don't know… resistance against an oppressive authority who refuses to train us to defend ourselves from a very real threat? And technically, I asked you on your first day back."

"And I said no. Repeatedly."

"What can I say, I'm persistent."

She sighed, "I don't know if rising up and rebelling against tyrannical governments is really my thing."

"It's not really mine either," he said, casually scratching his jaw. "I much prefer quidditch."

"What if she finds you?"

He shrugged again, "I figure I've already helped an alleged murderer escape so how big of deal is it to break a few more school rules? Besides, after facing Voldemort four times, Umbridge doesn't really scare me much."

Kaelix chewed her bottom lip briefly. "She's a different kind of evil."

"I would have thought that the girl who stood up to Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack would have taken one look at Umbridge and told her where to stuff it," he said.

"That girl might have," she nodded her agreement, failing to swallow the lump in her throat. "If she were here."

"Look, Williams-"

"We should get back," she said, gathering herself up off the floor.

He followed suit without another word. Kaelix took one last look at the smiling faces of Katharine, Remus, and Malfoy before following Potter across the clearing, back through the door, and into the castle corridor beyond. Potter threw his invisibility cloak over the both of them and with it she felt the weight of the outside world settle down on her once more, the throb in her hand increasing slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi All! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a bit of a trip to get through on my end so I'd love to hear what you all thought of it?!
> 
> For the record, in relation to current events, black lives matter, trans women are women, trans men are men, and trans rights are human rights. These statements should not be political, basic human rights are not political.


	6. Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 Recap: Kaelix gets detention/talks with trio & Sirius; Charms - glowing fingers & refused to take mysterious Wegenstehl book; Chat with Nott; Divination - Cleromancy with Colin; Detention - threatened by Umbridge; Mild breakdown - RoR; chat with Harry; mirror with last second reveal that she sees Remus, Katherine, and Malfoy!

Chapter 6: Cracks

When Kaelix blinked awake the next morning the letters carved into the back of her hand still throbbed dully. It took a moment for her foggy brain to recall the events of the late hours of the previous night, but the memories resurfaced as she lay there dreading the day ahead of her. The lines in detention, tripping in the corridor, the Room of Requirement, the pedestal of mysterious liquid, the mirror and what it meant… she mentally groaned as she remembered the conversation with Potter. Not that it was a particularly embarrassing conversation but she dreaded his interpretation of the event. It must have been two in the morning by the time she and Potter had made it back to the common room and parted ways.

Miraculously, she'd fallen asleep nearly the moment her head had hit the pillow and no nightmares had plagued her. No part of her body felt well-rested, but there was some relief as she awoke this morning, some slight lifting of the veil that had weighed her down since she'd left that island. The curtains around her four-poster provided some small sanctuary from the noise and pressure of the rest of the world. She desperately wished she could stay there for a week, or at least a day. She would have thought that an eighteen-month stint in Azkaban would have afforded her more than a few weeks off before being thrown back into a full school schedule and then some. But classes wouldn't wait for her to feel well-rested, or anything else resembling normal. And to top it off she would be spending another evening slowly carving up her own hand again. Her only solace was that she could return to the Room of Requirement to repair the damage to her hand, and Umbridge would never know.

So she gathered herself up and made her way down to the Great Hall to grab something to eat despite not having an appetite at all. Then joined the other fifth years as they braced themselves to cross the grounds through the unrelenting weather. The rain came down in sheets, flooding their path to the greenhouses, streams of runoff cascading around them. Every single one of them was drenched through to the bone within moments of stepping outside. Kaelix pushed away the memory of another time in another rainstorm as water seeped into her shoes while she crossed the vegetable patch. Once they were safely within the shelter of the greenhouses, the entire class set about drying themselves out. Hermione assisted Kaelix since it was a charm they had learned the previous year.

It was a double Herbology lesson this morning, which meant there was a small chance that the storm would rain itself out by the time they were done. They spent the first half of the double period pruning the Belladonna plants back from their overgrown state and harvesting their berries for the potions stockpile. For the second half, Professor Sprout was attempting to instruct them on how to subdue the Fanged Geranium in order to harvest the teeth but they could hardly hear her over the storm that only seemed to be getting worse. The heavy rain had turned to hail and it was hammering against the greenhouse roof so aggressively that Kaelix actually wondered whether it might break under the force of it. Eventually, Professor Sprout concluded her mimed demonstration and started moving about the class to shout in individual ears.

Kaelix grabbed the sticks meant to hold the fanged flower open and sized up the pot in front of her. There were a pair of Hufflepuffs to her left that were laughing and she caught snippets of their conversation as she stood contemplating an attack plan against a flower. She couldn't hear everything they said but it was something about giving all the house points they had to see one of their classmates do something or other, presumably something embarrassing. Then they shifted to complaining about homework, and then it was back to gossiping about who said what to who at dinner last night. Some part of her wished it was her, that all she had to think about was who was dating who or what she was willing to trade the whole of Gryffindor's house points for. But that all seemed so very distant from where she was now, despite physically being only a few steps away. Perhaps the disconnect would fade with time, perhaps someday she might find herself worrying about those things again.

Kaelix worked with her Geranium as best she could for the rest of the class, it only managed to bite her twice, though neither time drew any blood. She did manage to get a few teeth removed but the flower put up quite the resistance despite its size. The stormy weather continued on through lunch and Professor Grubbly Plank, who Kaelix had gathered was acting as Professor Hagrid's temporary replacement, met them in the Entrance Hall. She announced that their class would be relocated to a classroom on the ground floor today so as to avoid any students being washed away by the storm. There was a murmur of gratitude among the students as she led them away from the thundering rain.

As they followed Professor Grubbly Plank to their temporary classroom for the day, Potter fell into step beside Kaelix. She barely had time to dread him making a comment about the previous evening when he whispered out the side of his mouth.

"We're having our first Defense meeting tonight. Eight o'clock. You're welcome to join us if you like, you know where."

And just as quickly as he'd come up beside her, he was gone again. She didn't even have time to tell him she had another evening of detention, like it was some kind of covert mission that he couldn't be overheard or seen talking about. Though with Umbridge stalking the halls, it probably was.

As they all filed into their classroom, she looked the wrong direction at the wrong time and met Malfoy's gaze. He was scowling in her direction and she felt his gaze fixed on her as she found a seat near the back of the room. By the time she had the nerve to glance back his way, his attention had returned to the front of the room. Well, he was facing the front of the room, his attention looked to be anywhere but there.

Crabbe and Goyle sat to his immediate right. Pansy and a few other Slytherins sat behind them. Nott and Zabini were sitting apart. It was the first time Kaelix noticed the physical separation between them. Was it her imagination or was Malfoy thinner than he had been? His eyes certainly look darker. She hadn't noticed the other day in the dungeon corridor, but she hadn't really been looking. And it didn't matter. She ran a hand over her face. It didn't matter if what Nott had said about Malfoy losing sleep was true or not, it didn't matter what had happened while she was gone, because they had made it clear that it didn't matter what happened to her.

Professor Grubbly Plank started class by dimming the lights substantially and replaced them with a bright, brilliantly glowing orb that resembled the moon. Once the lighting was to her liking, she retrieved a packing case that she promptly transfigured into a large door, which she opened.

"Anyone ever heard of Mooncalves?" she asked.

A few murmurs of confirmation rippled through the class. In the light of the artificial moon Kaelix could make out a few of her classmates nodding. Kaelix strained to see what lay beyond the large door but the moonlight only extended a few feet inside, illuminating what looked like grass, but nothing more.

"They're very shy creatures, I'm not certain if this will actually draw them out because they usually only come out of their burrows during a full moon. But if we're lucky some of the youngsters might be feeling adventurous." She leaned closer to the door and emitted a sort of clicking noise before continuing. "They don't make very good pets since they hole up in their burrows most of the time, but they're friendly and enjoy a bit of human attention if you can get past their nerves."

A shadow passed over the grass within the doorway, a figure tentatively stepping forward. Professor Grubbly Plank did her clicking call again and withdrew what Kaelix could only assume were Mooncalf treats from a pouch tied at her waist. Kaelix had no idea what she expected a Mooncalf to look like, something similar to a baby cow, or maybe a baby hippo. But the strange creature that stepped over the threshold into the light of the moon was not anywhere near either of those things.

It looked like the unfortunate mix of several different animals, with very, very large round eyes that gave it an alien feel. The eyes bulged and seemed to glow blue in the moonlight, situated on top of a head that extended far above the body. The neck was so long that Kaelix wondered how it held itself upright, rather than tipping over from the weight of it. The body was covered in smooth, pale grey fur which thinned and then disappeared on the four spindly legs that ended in large, flat, black, webbed feet resembling those of a duck.

The mooncalf was happily taking treats from the professor now and a few others lingered at the door, trying to determine whether it was safe to emerge or not.

"They typically dance under the light of the full moon, but they'll need to feel safe with us first. It might take a bit. We've had a time with these little guys terrorizing muggle fields on occasion. Their dancing has a tendency to create geometric patterns in wheat or grass fields, which muggles can't explain. A fair few memory charms have been done after muggles stumbled upon the real cause of the patterns in their fields."

The other mooncalves had ventured a few steps into the room, eyeing the artificial moon with wonder, or at least their wide eyes made it look like wonder. Professor Grubbly Plank continued to toss out treats to the now eager and growing flock gathered around her.

"Hodags, which we'll learn more about later this term, like to feed on them, but they're mostly found in North America. The mooncalves don't have much in the way of predators over here. Can anyone tell me about any potion ingredients we might harvest from the mooncalves?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air and the professor nodded to her. "Their dung, if harvested before the sun rises, will make excellent fertilizer for magical plants, allowing them to grow much faster and stronger than they would be able to otherwise."

"Ten points for Gryffindor, very good, Miss Granger," she praised. There was a murmur of hesitation and Grubbly Plank continued with a smile, "Not to worry, we won't be harvesting their dung today."

A collective sigh heaved through the room. After several more mooncalves crossed the threshold, Professor Grubbly Plank handed out treats to each of them and encouraged them to befriend their very own mooncalf. Kaelix found a shorter, but still very long-necked, mooncalf and began spoiling it with treats. It didn't take very long at all for the calf to grow fond enough of her that it was nudging her hand for head scratches like a large dog. A while later Grubbly Plank started herding the mooncalves back through the door.

"You would end up with the runt of the pack."

She did her best to cover the slight jump and the sharp intake of breath at the sound of his sneering voice behind her. Her teeth clenched and she passed her mooncalf one final treat, it rubbed it's head gratefully into her hand before following the rest of the herd back through the door.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked.

She pocketed her left hand sharply. "Leave me alone."

"Could you at least look at me when you say that?" he asked through clenched teeth.

She turned around to face him squarely and repeated, "Leave me alone."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Potter interjected.

"Nobody asked you, Potter," he spat.

"She told you to leave her alone," his voice was surprisingly even.

Normally she would have been annoyed by Potter trying to swoop in and play the hero. In fact, a similar scenario had happened back during third year and she'd told him off over it. But he was only reiterating what she'd already said and she was too tired to care.

"Did she ask you to come to her rescue?" Malfoy asked.

"Are you saying she needs rescued from you?" Potter asked coolly.

She sighed. "If the two of you want to have a pissing contest, could you not use me as an excuse? These are my last clean robes and I'd rather not walk around smelling like a toilet." With that, she grabbed her book bag and left them both behind.

That evening after dinner, Kaelix made her way down to the potions classroom for her lesson with Snape. It was one more thing that no one had bothered to tell her during her weeks-long stay at Grimmauld Place, Remus was no longer teaching at Hogwarts. She'd been informed on her first day back that Snape would be stepping in to resume her extra lessons and cover the fourth year curriculum with her so that she might stay with her fellow fifth year classmates. As if she'd developed a strong bond over the single school year they'd spent together. She was annoyed and grateful and indifferent.

Though they'd only had one lesson together so far and she could tell that it wouldn't be the same as Lessons with Lupin, she wasn't dreading it nearly as much as she dreaded some of her regular classes. She'd expected there might be some level of tension between the two of them, seeing as how the last time she'd seen him he'd been screaming about a few teenagers helping Black, his mortal enemy, escape capture and subsequently, death. But despite those rather aggravated terms they'd left things on, Professor Snape had turned out to be more tolerable company than anyone else had been since her return. He was neutral in a way, someone she neither liked or disliked, someone she didn't have to argue with.

They'd spent the previous lesson discussing the plan for the year, their schedule, and what they would need to cover. Since she'd already attempted several fourth year potions during her fifth year, Snape decided that they wouldn't spend much of their time there. Trelawney had insisted that she couldn't skip an entire year of Divination, so that was off the table entirely. He'd made a snide remark about the lack of any kind of real learning or value in Care of Magical Creatures, so they'd be skipping that too. He provided a reading list for her to independently cover fourth year History of Magic, Astronomy, and Herbology. Which only left Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and some brief Potions.

Considering the increased workload expected of fourth years, it seemed like an impossible amount of ground to cover in just a few evenings a week. During their first lesson, Snape covered Colovaria, a spell that changes the color of things; Orchideous, a transfiguration spell in the conjuring family that produces flowers out of the tip of your wand; Colloportus, the locking charm that pairs with the unlocking charm she'd already learned; and Glacius, a defense spell that freezes minor targets. They had reviewed each spell and how to perform it, leaving her with instructions to practice each of them before their next meeting, at which time he expected to see substantial progress. All of that on top of her fifth year work as well.

After receiving detention the previous evening she certainly hadn't practiced the spells as much as she would have liked. At all. She hadn't practiced the spells at all, and she wasn't looking forward to admitting that to Snape. A small sigh crossed her lips at the prospect of already being behind at her attempt to catch up from being behind, and while she spent this time trying to catch up, she would simultaneously be falling behind with her regular classes. It was exhausting just to think through it. Everyone else would be working on their homework while she played catch up, and when they were finished and relaxing, she would just be starting. All that work and somehow she'd still be behind. It was starting to feel like she'd always be behind.

When she arrived at the classroom she found that he had already prepared a workstation for her with various objects for her to practice on, some of which were alive. Professor Snape was seated at his desk, his eyes scanning the topmost piece in a stack of parchment that looked like first year essays. The poor soul at the top of the stack had several large X's drawn through portions and Snape scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a failing grade at the end of the essay.

He gestures to the workstation without looking up. "Perform the spells we discussed last time. Once you demonstrate proficiency you'll be done for the evening, otherwise you'll practice until our time is up."

Kaelix sucked her lip for a moment. "Er- Professor?"

He looked up without moving his head.

Her right hand subconsciously went to the back of her left and a bit of heat rose in her cheeks. "I have detention with Professor Umbridge at seven."

Was it her imagination or did his eyes flicker down to her hand as well?

"You best start working then," was all he said.

She slid into the seat and withdrew her wand. There was a bit of parchment with neatly scrawled instructions for her, listing the spells with their wand motions, and what she was supposed to do with each of the objects provided. Seeing no reason not to, she decided to start at the top and work her way down. Professor Snape's tutoring style was much more independent study than Remus' had been, but she didn't mind. It was a relief to have some time alone, or almost alone, away from the baseline noise of the rest of the castle. She had always liked the peace and quiet of the dungeon classroom, even before Azkaban.

For the most part, as Kaelix began practicing each spell in turn, Snape continued to silently work his way through the stack of reports, occasionally offering minor corrections to her pronunciation or wand work. These spells took more practice, more focused effort than she remembered. Obviously they were more advanced spells, but it felt disheartening to repeatedly fail. Perhaps it was just how tired she was, but each attempt left her feeling even more drained and frustrated than the previous. And she still had detention to survive.

The hour ticked steadily by and by the time Snape approached the desk to see her progress she was embarrassed by what lay in front of her. The frog she'd been tasked with changing from it's natural grey-green hue to blue was somewhere in between. She'd only managed to produce a single flower from the end of her wand in all her attempts as the orchideous spell. Only the first and easiest of the three small chests he'd left her was locked. And she hadn't managed to freeze anything. It was a resounding failure.

"Perhaps you would do well to avoid detention in future weeks. That time might be better spent practicing," he said.

There was no malice in his words but she still felt them sting. Most everything had come relatively easy to her that first year, or it had taken little more than a bit of extra concentration. She tucked her wand away and ducked out of the classroom with her gaze on the floor. Two people approached from the other end of the corridor but she didn't look up for fear that one of them might be Malfoy. As they walked by the pent up pressure of the moment passed, she was in the clear. Until-

"Have you talked to him yet?" the familiar voice met her ears.

So close. She had been so close to the end of the corridor.

"Gods not you too," she sighed.

"I know you didn't listen to Nott, or Malfoy would've stopped stomping around like a petulant child. So I guess that means it's my turn."

"Well if you're just going to tell me the same thing that he did you can save your breath," she said, turning to face Zabini.

He shrugged. "I don't know what Nott told you, and I don't know what Malfoy said to piss you off either. But I do know that you're both being miserable gits about this and if you'd just stop being so damn stubborn for five minutes then you'd be a lot less miserable."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "If you're so worried about his well being then why don't you and Nott just talk to him yourselves?"

"We tried, believe me, we tried. But after you left-"

"I didn't leave," she interjected sharply.

"After they took you," he corrected, "he just sort of shut down, all of last year. Eventually Nott and I got tired of being told to piss off, so we finally did."

"Didn't take long for you to give up then, did it?" a bit of irritation sneaking into her voice.

"What were we supposed to do, storm Azkaban and break you out? Malfoy's dad tried to convince the Minister but he wouldn't hear it. It took Dumbledore threatening the Ministry with-"

"I don't have time for this," she said.

"Hang on, just for a minute-"

"I have detention." She turned to leave.

"Just yell at him," Zabini said. "Tell him he was a git, he knows it's true. I'm not saying you have to give him a second chance, but at least have it out with him before you decide."

She hesitated only a moment longer before leaving him in the middle of the corridor.

She quickly made her way up to Umbridge's office, fearing that if she arrived even just a fraction of a second past seven it would earn her another detention. It was an effort to level her breathing as she slowed just outside the door but she didn't have time to gather and steel herself. Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, just as she had been the previous evening. The uneasy feeling settled between Kaelix's shoulders as she took her seat.

The evening played out the same as the previous and Kaelix sat in that uncomfortable chair, her back aching, as she carved fresh wounds into the back of her hand. It was long into the evening again, longer it seemed, when Umbridge ordered her to stop. Kaelix tried her best to hide her sigh of relief and worked to keep her face impassive. Any part of her that was feeling the smallest bit of defiance at the beginning of the evening had been eroded with each pass of the quill. Even thoughts of the Room of Requirement brought little solace to her frayed nerves.

"It seems the message has set in fairly well, hasn't it? Though I did expect it to be a bit more… permanent after two sittings," Umbridge said as she examined the extent of her quill's handiwork. "Well, perhaps that's enough. And if not, we can always bring ourselves right back here, can't we?" Her smile split wide across her face.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them and Kaelix felt an overwhelming urge to yank her hand free of Umbridge's grasp. The moment lengthened and lengthened until Kaelix conceded with a jerky nod. Then Umbridge released her hand. Everything was a power play with this woman.

"Now you may go," she said, reveling in the distress she'd read in Kaelix's expression.

She didn't waste any time leaving the office and navigating back toward Gryffindor Tower. This evening she sought out the Room of Requirement intentionally, this evening she knew exactly what she needed from it and felt relief as the door appeared for her. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she stepped over the threshold and into the clearing. No matter how highly Umbridge thought of herself, no matter what authority she bestowed upon herself, she did not control the castle itself and Kaelix still had this small triumph. Umbridge had tried to break her, but she had found a way to hold herself together. It was not a direct rebellion but it was something. And for a moment she understood why Potter had been so adamant about his Defense lessons.

She stood next to the pedestal and soaked her hand, watching as the letters slowly stitched back together and the redness faded. All the while thinking about what Umbridge's face might look like if she ever found out about this little clearing with its little pedestal that thwarted at least half of her torture disguised as discipline. She mused about other ways that she might outsmart the professor, perhaps joining up with Potter's club wasn't such a bad idea if it meant taking that woman down. Maybe if they played their cards right, they could get her removed from the school, or maybe even more than that. The idea, as small as it was, that they could defeat her was alluring. An intoxicating surge of adrenaline rushed through her. It was…

She blinked at the white lines that scared the back of her hand. The liquid healed but it did not erase. A shiver went down her spine and she fought the wave of memories that threatened to drown her. Stupid. It was overzealous and foolish. This woman had more power, more influence than Kaelix could even comprehend, the idea that they could somehow bring her down, that they might be able to remove her from the school or even the Ministry? Complete foolishness.

The adrenaline ebbed and she folded it up into a neat little box, along with everything else she was feeling. She took all of it, piece by piece, and wrapped it up, tucking it away deep within herself where it wouldn't hurt her. That was how she'd survived Azkaban, and that was how she would survive Umbridge. She'd just survive. What else was there.

Kaelix did her best to keep her head down during the following weeks. She had no desire to have a repeat performance of the detentions of her first week back. And it took all of her energy just to keep up with everything anyway. She knew she was barely scraping by, the work she turned in for most of her classes was mediocre by the most lenient standards. Although somehow she was still managing to pull semi-decent marks and Snape hadn't kicked her out of his classroom in frustration yet, so that was something.

Good days came and went, occasionally she felt almost normal caught up in the middle of class, laughing as they all watched Seamus blow something up in Charms, again. She tried to hold onto those days but they would inevitably pass and she'd wake up wishing she was back at Number Twelve where her only companion was a drunk who was nearly as miserable as she was. At least there she didn't have to drag herself through pointless classes and pointless lessons.

Potter had continued to keep her apprised of the Defense meetings and she continued to tell him she'd think about it despite having no intention of doing so. Perhaps if she wasn't existing in a constant state of exhaustion she'd be able to find the energy to spare. To his credit he hadn't given her any grief over it, just let her know when the next one would be. Each time he caught her for the next update she swore his eyes were lit up, he even seemed smugly content to sit through Umbridge's class. The knowledge that they were so directly defying her, right under her nose no less, was evidently just what he needed to 'behave' himself.

Eventually, Hermione devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to everyone without having to play telephone every time. It would be especially useful if they needed to make a change at the last minute.

"It's a fake Galleon," Potter explained briefly as he passed her the gold coin. "You see the numerals around the edge there? On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. But on these fake coins, the numbers will change to reflect the time and day of the next meeting. The coin will warm up when the date changes, so if you keep it in your pocket you'll know. We've all got one. Mine's the master and Hermione charmed them so that when I change mine, all the others will change to match it."

Kaelix looked from the coin to Potter.

"What? You don't have to take it if you don't want to, I just thought, since we had them, you might like this more than me bugging you every time we change the day." His expression fell a little.

She shook her head, "I'm not used to seeing you this excited about something. Other than quidditch I suppose. It's weird."

"Oh, well... " he ran a hand through his already messy hair to rest at the back of his neck. "That makes me sound terrible," he said with a nervous laugh.

"You are terrible. I'll take the coin," she said pocketing it. "But that still doesn't mean I'm showing up."

He shrugged. "You know where to find us if you change your mind. I've got quidditch, see you."

With that, he took off. Kaelix watched as he disappeared down the corridor, thinking about how drastically different that encounter had been from most of their encounters during third year. She sighed, at least he wasn't yelling at her or trying to order her around anymore. She hoisted her bag farther up on her shoulder and turned to head to the library, right into the very solid form of another student.

"Oh, sorry, I-" she stopped and her stomach fell out when she realized who it was she had collided with.

"Taking handouts from Potter now?" he asked with a scowl.

She squared off against him. "What's it matter to you if I am?"

"I shouldn't be surprised," he said, scratching his jaw line. "He gets everyone to join his fanclub eventually."

"Sounds like you're already a member then?"

He glowered. "Someday you'll realize how stupid it is to be friends with him."

Something within her pulled taught. "You mean the same way I realized how stupid I was to be your friend?"

"I never should have given you a chance after you were sorted into Gryffindor," he spat.

"I never should have given you a chance after you showed me what an arrogant asshole you are," she snapped.

"At least I don't go around thinking I'm better than everyone else just because I don't understand the differences between Gryffindors and Slytherins."

"No, you just think you're better than everyone else because you're part of a pureblood family, right? That's reason enough to never speak to you again." She moved to shove past him.

"You didn't seem to care about that last year," he said, blocking her path.

Annoyance flashed through her veins. "I was hoping you'd grow out of it, I guess my expectations were just too high. Doesn't seem like you've grown out of anything."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth.

She nodded in agreement, "Right, because for all the heart to hearts we had, you never shared anything about yourself. But I guess I was just complaining all that time anyway, right? Unless the next thing out of your mouth is an apology then I don't want to hear it."

His jaw clenched and didn't say anything. But something flickered across his expression.

"Actually, I think you owe me an apology," he said.

Then he drew his arms across his chest and smirked at her. He was smirking at her like this was some kind of game. What did he think he was playing at?

"How on earth do you think that?"

She saw his smirk falter, saw the doubt behind the facade as he questioned his own words. But then he spoke again, slowly this time, as if he were explaining something to a child.

"For running into me."

Her brow furrowed for a moment of incredulity before she realized, before she remembered. "Are you serious?" she asked flatly.

"What, do I not look seriou-"

"No," she cut him off. "No, you look like this is just another joke, just another game for you to win."

"Oh, come on. You thought it was funny before. Can't we just start over? Pretend all that-" he waved vaguely "-never happened?"

Something painful swelled within her chest and pressed at her eyes. She reeled it in, pressing it back down, down, down until she couldn't feel the pressure of it any longer, until it didn't matter anymore.

"No," was all she said.

Kaelix moved past him down the corridor and didn't let herself look back. If she had stopped to think about it she would have realized what was hidden behind all his snapping and scowling. If she'd let herself contemplate his words she might have realized what he was really asking. If she had really looked, she might have seen the cracks beginning to form. But she'd tried that before and it had hurt too much to try again, so she didn't let herself think about it.

She couldn't help noticing that Malfoy seemed removed from the rest of the Slytherins over the following weeks. He didn't take part in their jeering and mocking of Weasley more so than just being present. It was like his mind was otherwise occupied with things far more important than the outcome of a quidditch match. She wondered if it had anything to do with his father, then she wondered if it was just another game to draw her in. So she pushed it from her mind and tried not to notice when his gaze drifted to her.

After settling into a routine the weeks seemed to slip by. She felt the same blurred indifference that she'd experienced during her stay at Grimmauld. Everything seemed to happen apart from her, like her presence didn't matter because nothing would be different in her absence. Nothing would be different if she was still in Azkaban. But still life kept happening, day after day, a relentless and never-ending flow of events that she just kept showing up for, letting it take her wherever it would. She didn't have a say in any of it, not since they'd taken her away that night, maybe even before that.

As October extinguished itself into a rush of howling winds and frozen rain, November arrived carrying with it a bone-chilling cold that blanketed the forest in frost each morning and bit at exposed hands and faces. All around her there was a mounting energy for the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. But whereas during third year she felt almost pulled between the two houses, now she felt no particular attachment to either. Her detachment seemed to feed itself, the more she avoided everyone else, the more they avoided her. Even Potter had stopped giving her updates on his Defense club now that she had the Galleon.

Kaelix didn't attend the match. There was an upset that she heard about later. Gryffindor had won, as expected, but a fight had broken out afterward and in the end Professor Umbridge had banned Potter and both Weasley twins from ever playing Quidditch again. It was under the implementation of the most recent Educational Decree, they were up to twenty-five now, that she had the authority to issue such a sweeping punishment. She could now overrule the disciplinary action of any other professor if she did not feel they adequately addressed the infraction, even Dumbledore. Just another nail in the coffin that held the hope of anyone being able to check the woman. If she could overrule Dumbledore, then there was no one left.

The weeks continued to pass and it was December when Professor Hagrid made his reappearance. Their class was trekking across the icy, snow laden grounds, heavily bundled against the frigid air when she saw his towering form. Potter, Weasley, and Hermione seemed nervous as they approached, exchanging glances and urgent whispers, even glancing around for fear they might be overheard. Hagrid was waiting for them at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and he had definitely looked better. There were several cuts across his face that appeared fresh. As if his appearance wasn't ominous enough, he was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.

"We're workin' in here today!" he called happily as they approached, jerking his head back toward the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered from the weather and, anyway, they prefer the dark."

"What prefers the dark?" Malfoy said sharply, a small trace of panic lined his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark?"

Kaelix caught a glimpse of Potter stifling a smirk and she wondered if there was something behind that hint of fear she'd heard. Weasley was also looking a little green at the prospect of entering the forest. Potter whispered something which eased some of the tension on Weasley's face, but Kaelix didn't think his hesitation was entirely unwarranted. The prospect of entering the darkness of the forest felt akin to the dark, unknown depths of the ocean. What lurked where the light couldn't reach?

"Ready?" Hagrid said cheerfully, looking around the class. "Right, well. I've been savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare. I reckon I'm probably the only person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."

"How do you know they're trained then?" Malfoy asked, not quite covering the fear in his voice as much as he probably intended. "It wouldn't be the first time you've brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

He must have been referring to the Hippogriffs from their third year, to be fair, Buckbeak had attacked Malfoy but surely that one incident wasn't solely responsible for inflection in his voice. Most of the Slytherins murmured in agreement and a few of the Gyrffindors looked as though they were considering joining in as well.

"I know 'cause they listen ter me," said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.

"What happened to your face, then?" Pansy asked slyly and a few Slytherins sniggered along with her. Malfoy wasn't one of them.

"Mind yer own business!" Hagrid snapped. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"

He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow, but Potter sighed, exchanged a glance with Wealsey and Hermione, and the three of them set off after Hagrid. The rest of the class followed tentatively after them. They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees were so close together that it looked like twilight and no snow had filtered through to the ground here. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face the class. Most of them were hesitantly creeping from tree to tree, their heads constantly swivelling to keep one eye on their surroundings as though they might be attacked at any moment.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid encouraged. "Now, they'll be attracted to the smell 'o the meat, but I'm going ter give them a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd shrieking cry that echoed off through the darkness of the trees. Kaelix thought it sounded like the call of some kind of monstrous bird. Outside the eerie setting of the dark forest it might have been funny, but nobody laughed here. Most everyone was still glancing around, too frightened to make a sound themselves, and Weasley kept periodically swiping at his arms and neck, like he was swatting away a bug.

Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of what it was that was coming. Then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third time and expanded his enormous chest, Potter nudged Weasley and pointed between two gnarled yew trees and a point that at first glance appeared black and empty.

Kaelix waited, eyes trained to where Potter had gestured, and a moment later she saw them. A pair of blank, white eyes shined out of the gloom and they were growing larger, coming closer. A large dragonish face formed through the darkness, followed quickly by a neck, and then the large skeletal body of a winged horse. It was one of the creatures that pulled the carriages up to the school. It hesitated, surveying the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then it stepped up to the cow carcass, bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.

A few other students were clearly transfixed by the creature. Neville's eyes were a bit glassy and entirely captured by each swish of the long black tail. Nott was watching with a hard expression. Her gaze slid unwillfully over Malfoy and she found him fixed on the creature as well, his jaw clenched tight, his expression otherwise unreadable. But several students were still glancing around nervously, as though they thought more might ambush them, or as if-

Weasley whispered to Potter, "Why doesn't Hagrid call again?" he asked, as if he couldn't see the one plainly in front of them.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid said beaming, as a second black horse creature appeared in the darkness between the trees, it's leathery wings were folded close to its body as it dipped its head to partake in the meat. "Now… put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Potter threw his hand up, almost knocking Weasley's shoulder in the process. Kaelix raised hers and saw movement in her peripheral vision that she knew was Malfoy and Nott raising their hands as well. Neville and a scattered few others raised tentative hands while Hagrid's gaze swept the class.

"Yeah… yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," Hagrid said. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An'-"

"Excuse me," said Pansy in a sneering voice, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

Hagrid pointed to the cow carcass on the ground as if that would answer the question for anyone who couldn't see the creatures. Kaelix tried to imagine what it must look like to them, to see bits of flesh just stripping themselves away from the bones and then vanishing into thin air. Parvati squealed and several others gasped as one by one they noticed the disembodied flesh moving.

"What's doing that?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it? And where is it?"

"Thestrals," Hagrid said proudly and Hermione gave a soft 'Oh!' of comprehension. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows-?"

"But those are unlucky!" interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. "They're really, really unlucky. Professor Trelawney told me once, they're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them!" Her and Lavender Brown immediately turned their gazes to the ground so as not to inadvertently catch a glimpse of one of the creatures that were plainly invisible to them.

"No, no, no," said Hagrid chuckling, "tha's jus' superstition, that is. Trelawney should stick to tea leaves and crystal balls, an' leave thestrals alone. They aren't unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate-an' here's another couple, look-"

Two more thestrals came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree. Her gaze was still fixed on the ground as she said, her voice rising with panic, "I think I just felt one, I think it's near me!"

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her.

"The only people who can see thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha's exactly right," Hagrid said with a solemn note in his voice. "Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thestrals-"

"Hem, hem."

Kaelix's stomach dropped at that sound, if only Umbridge was the type of creature you could only see under certain circumstances. How much better their lives would all be if she could only be heard on Friday the Thirteenths or full moons that landed on the first of the month. Somehow she'd managed to come up behind the group silently, standing only a few feet away from Kaelix. She wore a green hat and matching cloak today, a rare deviation from her usual pink attire that made it appear as though she'd wanted to match the forest. Her quill was poised above her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had evidently never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing with some concern at the closest thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

"Hem, hem."

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in a loud, slow voice, as though she were addressing someone who perhaps didn't speak the same language. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh, yeah," he said brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see- or, I dunno-can you? We're doin' thestrals today-"

"I'm sorry?" said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"

Her and Fudge should start a support group, Assholes Pretending They Can't Hear. Hagrid looked confused, clearly not realizing the woman was being a bigot on purpose.

"Er-thestrals!" he said more loudly. "Big-er-winged horses, yeh know!" He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: "Has… to… resort… to… crude… sign… language."

"Well, anyway…" said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, "erm… what was I sayin'?"

"Appears… to… have poor… short… term… memory…" muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Malfoy's eyes glinted, a small smirk played at his lips. Hermione had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the thestral that had appeared first, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the Forest-"

"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified thestrals as "dangerous"?"

It truly seemed as though Umbridge's goal was to dismantle Hogwarts from the inside out, one teacher at a time. Hagrid certainly wasn't the most conventional of their professors, but he was far and away better than Umbridge. He chuckled at her comment. Potter paled.

"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them-"

"Shows… signs… of… pleasure… at idea… of… violence," muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again.

"No-come on!" said Hagrid, looking a little more anxious now. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it-but thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing-people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"

Umbridge had her beady stare narrowed on Hagrid as he spoke but she did not acknowledge his words. She finished writing her last note, then said very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk," she mimed walking and Kaelix thought Pansy was going to convulse with laughter, "among the students," she pointed around at individual members of the class "and ask them questions," she pointed at her mouth, presumably to indicate that she would be talking.

Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss for words as to why she was acting like he didn't understand normal English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now and Kaelix felt her own anger prickling. Naturally, Umbridge walked toward Pansy Parkinson first.

"Do you find," she asked in a ringing voice, "that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?"

Pansy also had tears in her eyes, but they were tears of laughter. She struggled to even answer Umbridge through the fit of giggles she was trying desperately to suppress.

"No… because well… it sounds like… like grunting... a lot of the time…"

Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.

"Er… yeah… good stuff abou' thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go-"

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy loudly.

Pansy collapsed in a renewed fit of giggles at his comment. Malfoy's expression blanched when Pansy's laugh briefly turned to a piercing shriek. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville. Kaelix fixed Malfoy with a disapproving stare. He caught her gaze and his smirk faltered into a scowl.

"You can see the thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" Umbridge asked. He must have given some silent indication of acceptance because she continued with an indifferent tone, "Who did you see die?"

Kaelix didn't know why but she refused to look away. Was this who Malfoy really was? Had she really been that blind, that wrong about him?

"My… my grandad," Neville said.

Malfoy didn't break the stare either, his face had hardened, as if daring her to keep it up.

"And what do you think of them?" she asked, waving her stubby hand at the thestrals, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to the bone.

It wasn't a personality trait she would have assigned to him, based on their interactions during third year. He had never been intentionally cruel with her… Until he had been. So maybe it was a cornerstone of his personality, the desire to mock, to belittle, to hurt.

"Erm," said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. "Well, they're… er… okay…"

Malfoy still wasn't looking away though some of the hardness had left his expression, some of the stubborn defiance was fading, eroding under Kaelix's challenging stare.

"Students… are too… intimidated… to admit… they… are… frightened," muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.

Malfoy adjusted his footing and crossed his arms. He didn't drop his gaze but it was satisfying to see him squirm. Something pulled at her chest in a way that she refused to acknowledge.

"No!" said Neville, looking upset. "No, I'm not scared of them!"

Malfoy finally broke and looked away, leaning against a tree. It wasn't satisfaction that fell like a rock into the pit of her stomach.

"It's quite alright," said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer.

"I think what Neville was trying to say," Kaelix spoke up before she really knew where she was going, "was that they're a bit different, but they're interesting and we'd like to learn more."

Kaelix had shifted her gaze to the thestrals as she spoke but she could feel Umbridge turn that vomit-inducing smile in her direction, as well as the look of gratitude from both Hagrid and Potter. There was nothing outright challenging about what she'd said, but Umbridge was likely to twist the meaning around to suit her agenda. It was less likely that she'd do anything here, in the middle of class, with all these witnesses, or maybe it wasn't. Umbridge certainly seemed to be the type of person who could get away with almost anything at this point, regardless of who or how many people were there to witness it.

"What exactly would you like to learn about them, Miss Williams?" she asked.

Kaelix leveled her gaze against Umbridge, a streak of defiance rolling through her. A spark of something she hadn't felt much recently.

She shrugged. "How long do they live? How do you tell the males from the females? Are they all the same color? Can they see or do they use some other form of navigation? How far and how fast can they fly? Can they swim? Do they have any magical properties for potions or for wand cores? Do they eat things other than cow carcass? Are they found in all parts of the world or only some? How many are here in Hogwarts' herd? Do they get along with other creatures? Have they always pulled the carriages? When were they first discovered? Are they in danger of extinction since they seem to have a less than appealing reputation? And how did anyone figure out the whole death requirement thing?" She listed off as many questions as she could think of off the top of her head. "Anything, really."

Umbridge was still smiling and Kaelix began to question her decision to speak up, wondering if she would soon find herself reopening the scars on the back of her hand. It wasn't something she had been doing very much of recently, but something about that woman.

"Indeed," Umbridge said with a dangerous note to her voice. "Well, Hagrid," she said, turning to look up at him and speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive," she mimed taking something from the air in front of her, "the results of your inspection," she pointed at the clipboard, "in ten days' time." She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before, she turned to leave them to the rest of their class. As she passed Kaelix she paused only long enough to quietly utter, "Don't let that mouth run away with you again."

Kaelix saw the malevolent glint in her eye as she passed and bustled away through the forest. Pansy was again in a fit of laughter, Hermione looked like she was about to explode, Neville looked confused and upset, Potter was glaring daggers at Umbridge's retreating form, and Kaelix's stomach had dropped again. Every time she so much as considered a breath of defiance in Umbridge's direction, the woman beat her back down. Her original threat from that first evening of detention still echoed through Kaelix's mind, one way or another. She mentally berated herself, how stupid had it been to say anything at all. She caught Malfoy's gaze again briefly, was that concern lining his features? But as soon as she blinked it was gone and he was looking elsewhere.

Hagrid managed to regroup after Umbridge's quick departure and they had a decent lesson on the thestrals. He touched on many of the questions that Kaelix had posed and she caught Potter shooting her grateful glances whenever Hagrid mentioned one of her questions. As the lesson concluded and Hagrid moved to lead them back out of the forest, Kaelix was one of the last to leave. The thestrals were hauntingly beautiful and her hand twitched with the desire to sketch them, something she hadn't felt at all since she'd been back. At last she turned and followed the rest of the class, leaving the thestrals to the quiet of the forest.

As she broke the tree line and turned to follow the path her fellow Gryffindors had left in the snow, she noticed a few Slytherins lingering a few paces off. Malfoy snapped something at Crabbe and Goyle and they set off toward the castle. Nott passed Malfoy and must have muttered something that Kaelix couldn't hear because Malfoy told him to piss off. Nott shook his head and kept walking. Kaelix did the same.

"Williams," he called.

She glanced up as she approached him, meeting his gaze, and continued straight past.

"So you're not even going to acknowledge me anymore? Just stare daggers during classes?" he snapped.

A sigh escaped her lips and without stopping she replied, "Yep."

His footsteps crunched the snow as he followed her. "You need to stay out of Umbridge's way."

She stopped. "Excuse me?" she asked, turning to find him closer than she'd expected.

"Umbridge is dangerous, you don't know what she's capable of. You need to-"

"I know exactly what she's capable of-" her left hand burned at the memory "-but that's irrelevant. You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Merlin, Williams," he said, rubbing a hand over his face, "I'm just trying to warn you."

"Well, if that's all," she turned to resume her trek to the greenhouses.

"Did you ever tell your father that he's your father?" His question impaled her with the force of an actual spear and she nearly lost her footing. "Or are you still pretending that you haven't got either of your parents?"

She turned a murderous glare at him. How dare he? He had no right to ask her this, no right to prod the still-raw wound. Something cracked, flickering in her chest. He stared back at her, challenge lighting his eyes.

"That's not really any of your business anymore," she said quietly.

"Maybe not. But it's definitely his, isn't it? And keeping quiet about it is the coward's way out."

"Yeah," she agreed with a bitter smile, "you'd know a lot about the coward's way out, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means."

"So I'm the coward then? When you can't even have a decent conversation with me, you're so afraid of-"

"I am not afraid of you," she snapped. "You're so arrogant and narcissistic that you can't even fathom the possibility that-"

"Don't be so self-righteous. You think you're so much better than everyone else-" he gestured around, "-just because you don't understand how things really work around here."

"At least I don't use people for a laugh or subscribe to arbitrary rules of superiority just because my parents are touting them in some desperate attempt to fabricate self-importance." Her own words surprised her, but he didn't falter.

"I didn't use anyone." He was only a few inches taller than her but he seemed to tower over her. "And you've barely been part of the magical world for a year, don't talk about what you don't understand."

She almost stepped back but refused to yield even an inch to him. "Don't you dare lecture me on what I do or don't understand. There's no way to justify an arbitrary prejudice against other people. And our entire friendship was a sham, put on purely for your entertainment. How does that not count as using someone?"

"You think you're so clever but you're not. You still haven't figured out what's right in front of you."

"What is it then? By all means, explain it to me,"

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, changing directions with a shake of his head and a shrug. "What's the point, seems like you've already made up your mind."

She scoffed and shook her head. "What, can't think of a way to lie yourself out of the hole you dug below your own feet?"

"You're insufferable."

"And you're a selfish arrogant prick."

"At least I can admit when I'm wrong."

"Is that what you think you've done?"

"I'm here aren't I?" he gestured. "I'm trying to tell you to stay off Umbridge's radar, I'm trying to help-"

"Why are you here?" she demanded. "You said we're not friends, that we never were, so why are you here?"

He worked his jaw.

"I didn't know silence could be so bloody loud," she said.

"It's not like our friendship meant anything to you anyway." His words hit a nerve she thought she had buried and she would have sworn she felt it crack. "You didn't even wait a full day before running off to join Potter's crew."

"Oh my god, why are you so obsessed with Potter? You always bring it back to him, every conversation we have is basically a test to see how quickly you can bring him up."

"I'm not obsessed with him, I'm not the one playing tag along with the lot of them. You're the one who suddenly seems so keen on his company."

The wave was building, pressing up within her. She tried to push it back down, tried to contain the anger building there, but it was rising fast. "You don't get to police the company of someone you kicked to the curb."

"I didn't-"

"Don't you understand?" she said sharply. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm tired of this," she gestured between them. "I'm done with this stupid experiment. Nott and Zabini are right, everyone else is right, hell even Potter tried to tell you. You're the only one who actually thought this was working. Slytherins and Gryffindors aren't friends, and everybody knows that except you. This whole thing has just been one big joke and you're the punchline. You're the only one who didn't know, the only one stupid enough to have believed it this long. So here it is, spelled out just for you: We're not friends, we're nothing.

"That's what you said to me, or had you forgotten?" she threw the words at him, her voice rising as she went on. "Because I haven't! I couldn't, I heard it so many times. While you were just here, going about your life!"

"Right, cause my life is so easy, is it?"

"Well only one of us spent the last year and a half in Azkaban!" she shouted.

"Are you angry?" he shouted at her.

"Of course I'm angry, you ass," she shouted back.

"Good," he said.

Her lips parted but no sound came. Her brow furrowed at his retort. "What?" was all she could manage.

"You've been wandering around this castle for weeks like a ghost. I just wanted to make sure you could still feel something," he said. "Even if that means being angry with me. Because this is the most alive you've looked since you've been back."

"You don't know what you're talking about-"

"I think I know better than most," he said. And for some reason it sent a chill down her spine. "You can't keep pretending you don't care about anything."

"I don't," she said defiantly.

"Yes, you do. You just don't want to, is the problem. Which was probably really helpful in Azkaban, but you're out now and you can't keep this up. If that means you have to be angry with me then be angry, because that's better than nothing. But Merlin, Williams, don't just give up. Don't just let them win."

She swallowed hard.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. "Just be careful around Umbridge," he said. "Just be careful."

He set off toward the castle. She stood there, watching her breaths fade away into the space where he'd just stood. Something within her had cracked and that crack was widening, something she'd built to survive that darkness. But she was afraid of what would happen if it broke entirely because he was right, she didn't want to care. It hurt too much to care. So she smothered that flame of anger, doused it, and set about reinforcing the broken piece of her armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sooooooooo what did you think?! For real though, this chapter was A Struggle, I mean, life in general has been a whole new kind of struggle and I'm definitely Feeling It a lot lately. But any who, how did this one flow? how did it feel? did it jive? what did we think of the Kaelix/Draco interactions, good? not like warm and fuzzys good, obvi, but like 'can you tell I love drama' good? what are we thinking about Zabini saying Malfoy's dad tried to help get her out, do we think it's true? TELL ME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS
> 
> P.S. Was the recap of 5 helpful? My sisters who beta read these chaps for me said it was (since it takes me a whole ass month to write a new chapter lol) so I thought I'd include it for you all too!
> 
> P.P.S. I almost forgot! I finally did a proper new portrait of Kaelix! You can also see it in higher quality (and a Hermione portrait I did recently) over on my instagram if you're interested, my @ over there is rachelhanke27


	7. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 Recap: Kaelix is tired (aren't we all); CMC with mooncalves and Malfoy trying to talk to her, toilet comment; lessons with Snape, chat with Zabini, and detention with Umbridge, oh my; Kaelix is feeling small spurts of defiance but mostly helplessly behind and tired; Harry gives her a coin for DA, Malfoy tries to talk to her again but throwbacks don't work here; time passes, Kaelix is still tired; Hagrid's back for CMC in the snow with thestrals (on fire… lol jk); Kaelix sort of challenges Umbridge and wins a staring contest with Malfoy; Malfoy tries to talk to her again, uses dirty tactics to get her attention and make her angry yell at him because at least that's SOMETHING, then he lays some truth bombs but still doesn't apologize because he's a stubborn little shit; Kaelix is still tired.

She kicked a loose cobblestone through the snow as she approached the end of the street. The heavy foot traffic of the students had somewhat cleared paths through the village, but out near the fringes the snow thickened to an undisturbed blanket. It felt like every eligible student had taken advantage of the last Hogsmeade trip before the holiday break, but not many had been inclined to venture out past the shelter of the shops. Which is exactly what had drawn Kaelix there, tucking her mitten covered hands deep into the pockets of her cloak and forging through the snow laden path.

Did you ever tell your father that he's your father?

Malfoy's words replayed unbidden through her mind. As if she needed anyone else lecturing her about talking to her father. But then, he'd just been trying to poke her in the rawest spot. Or so he'd claimed.

So I'm the coward then?

She scoffed at the memory, he was absolutely the coward. He was such a coward that he couldn't even admit that he was a coward. Kaelix rolled her eyes.

I didn't use anyone.

Her stomach twisted into knots. She wanted to believe that he hadn't used her, hadn't set her up to be the punchline of his great joke, but she refused to be made a fool. Again.

You think you're so clever but you're not. You still haven't figured out what's right in front of you.

Her jaw clenched, that was the whole point wasn't it? That she'd been only one to not notice what was really happening? Her brow softened. Unless he was talking about something else…

I'm here aren't I? I'm trying to help.

An icy breeze cut through the trees, whipping up some loose snow into a mini blizzard.

He'd been so earnest.

I'm here aren't I?

He'd tried to be. He'd tried several times since she'd returned. The answer might have seemed obvious if not for their last conversation before she left. So she was left wondering, why had he been there?

I just wanted to make sure you could still feel something. Even if that means being angry with me.

Why was he trying so hard, what was the point?

I'm here aren't I?

But why? Why was he there? Why did he keep showing up?

You can't keep this up. If that means you have to be angry with me then be angry, because that's better than nothing. But Merlin, Williams, don't just give up. Don't just let them win.

No one else had even tried half as much as that. So why was the boy who had hurt her the most, the one trying so hard to help her now?

You're the only one stupid enough to have believed it this long. We're not friends, we're nothing.

Those words had haunted her more than she was willing to admit. They were loud, piercing words that shattered every other possibility. Leaving only the painful truth in ruins. He'd shown her who he really was that day.

But even from the ruins, his other words echoed, tugging at her.

I'm here aren't I?

We're not friends.

I'm here aren't I?

We're nothing.

I'm here aren't I?

I'm here.

Back and forth, hope and reason played a fierce game of tug of war with her heart and she wasn't sure which one she wanted to win.

Her thoughts circled the drain as they often did and she tried to pull herself back up and out. She rounded the bend in the path that revealed the shrieking shack up ahead and the familiar feeling of being watched settled over her. An unamused sigh ghosted away in front of her, afterall, what would a trip to Hogsmeade be without a visit from the Inn Man. Though choosing the same meeting spot as the previous visit was a bit off character for him.

A boot crunched through the snow behind her.

"Can't I have one Hogsmeade trip without you spoiling it?" she asked, knowing her tone would irritate him the way his vagueness irritated her.

But when she turned, expecting to see him occupying the path behind her, there was no one. The scrabbled noise of falling rocks met her ears and she looked abruptly to her right, scanning the landscape of the hillside for any sign of the source of the noise. Nothing moved and she didn't hear anything else beyond the low hum of the wind. A small shiver rippled through her but not from the cold.

Just nature, she told herself, just regular nature sounds.

But the feeling of being watched still lingered even as she dismissed the source of the sound as a rabbit and continued on down the path.

Despite her attempts to shake off the feelings of unease, she kept her ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary, and kept glancing into the forest or to the path behind her. But after another ten edgy minutes of walking through the snow, with only her footprints to follow her, she arrived at the viewpoint for the shrieking shack with no sign of the Inn Man. She rolled her shoulders as much to shake off the snow that had settled there as to shake her unease. As soon as he appeared he would get a lecture from her about this stalker behavior. Meeting her in town was fine, hell meeting her here at the shack had been fine, but the cloak and dagger approach this time was too far.

A twig snapped and her head swivelled to the direction of the sound, but she couldn't see anything through the trees. Just an animal, she told herself, just a rabbit or a deer or something harmless. Suddenly she was very aware of just how alone she was out here. There hadn't been so much as another footprint her entire way around the path. A quick glance up the path through the woods revealed no footprints to or from the village that direction either. The only disturbance in the snow surrounding her since last night's snowfall, were her own footprints.

She shook the thoughts away, you're just trying to scare yourself, there's no one out here.

Movement to her left caught her attention and she glanced back. Then did a double take because she hadn't actually expected to see anything. A figure was approaching from a ways down the path. For a split second she thought it was the Inn Man but the stride wasn't right, or the posture, or the clothes. She couldn't even tell for certain that it was a man, because whoever it was had their hood pulled up, most of their face hidden in shadow. But she decided that he must be a man, the way he was prowling toward her.

He stopped about fifteen yards off. Her heartbeat was in her throat and she swore she could feel his gaze scouring her from beneath the hood, the same feeling she'd had since that first sound. It felt like a violation, like he could see straight through to her soul and everything she'd hidden there. Was it a coincidence, that he'd shown up here, or had he followed her? Something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones, but she was frozen with indecision. If she ran would he chase her? Would it be better to casually slip away?

She clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking, her right hand clenched around her wand. A slight breeze chilled the sweat that had formed at the base of her neck. A jolt of panic rang through her as she reached for the familiar warmth of magic and was met with only frigid emptiness. She reached farther, frantic for something, anything to fuel her magic, her only defense.

Turning on her heel, she set off as quickly and casually as she could back toward the village. Her breaths grew shallow as the desire to glance back over her shoulder pressed in on her. Maybe he wasn't even following her, perhaps he'd just let her go. Anxiety nipped at her heels and adrenaline rose in her chest. She chanced a glance back and any amount of hope she had extinguished. She nearly tripped and then quickened her stride. A second glance back revealed that he was gaining on her, his stride eating up the ground between them much easier than her own. Then she saw his wand.

She jumped into a run and darted between the trees, her hair fanning out behind her. A whispered incantation loosed a spell between the trees. The impact of the spell struck to her right. Her breathing was already labored and she cursed herself for not being in better physical shape, why didn't Hogwarts have PE or something? Another hushed spell hit a tree ahead of her, not two feet to her left. The warm source of her own magic was still beyond her reach. She darted again. A stitch was forming in her side and she hadn't even cleared the trees yet.

She kept running and ducking and dodging until she broke free of the tree line. In hindsight it might have been easier to hop the fence and get to the Shrieking Shack if she'd moved as soon as she'd seen him, she could have broken a window to get inside, then moved through the tunnel back to Hogwarts, but that wasn't an option anymore. Sweat beaded on her face as she struggled to run through the snow. Her assailant crashed through the tree line and she would have cursed under her breath if she'd had the air in her lungs to do it.

She felt the spell coming before she heard the incantation this time, and she managed to duck out of the way just in time. The hum of it shooting right by her ear triggered a fresh wave of adrenaline, which pressed her legs to move faster than she previously thought possible. But it didn't matter, she was still too far from the nearest building, and magic still eluded her. Another spell shot past her right ear and in her reflex to avoid it, she stumbled and almost fell to the ground. Then she did fall to the ground.

The ice cold snow registered against her face before the pain of her knees impacting the ground. Her brain took a second to catch up as she scrambled to stand, panic welling up as she felt his presence closing in. She gasped, the air painfully knocked from her lungs. But as hard as she fought to stand, she couldn't get her legs to cooperate. She rolled to her back and realized her legs were bound from ankle to knee. Without a moment's pause she pulled at the bonds but they wouldn't budge. He was only a few paces away now, towering over.

Just as she withdrew her wand to try a spell, despite the persistent lack of magic, he disarmed her with a silent flick of his own. She scrambled backward and felt the faintest bit of warmth brush against her awareness. Desperately she reached out for it, that magic that danced just out of reach. Her only hope. Harsh breaths echoed in her ears as he loomed ever closer, his shadow cast over her, and right as it occurred to her to scream, he silenced her with a quick gesture.

The chords hit her with enough force to knock her flat on her back, binding her wrists, torso, and mouth. She tried to scream around them but not even a muffled sound could escape. His hooded form towered over her, a faceless captor. A wave of terror like she had never felt before swept over her as she realized that perhaps she had survived Azkaban, only to be kidnapped and murdered by this man. Tears pressed at her eyes. She silently screamed and struggled against her bonds. But it was futile. And she almost swore she could feel the amusement, the pleasure this man was gleaning from having her writhing on the ground, trapped with no way out.

He stooped, grabbed her ankles, and started dragging her back toward the forest. The ground scraped and scratched her back as her hair and cloak trailed over the snow behind her. Yet another wave of panic crashed into her and burned her chest with each effort to force air in and back out of her lungs. She continued to flail as tears streamed from her eyes. The warmth was slipping farther away again, her only hope of survival and she couldn't reach it. She couldn't defend herself, couldn't even call for help. This man was taking her to gods only knew where and there was nothing she could do to escape. No one to answer her silent pleas for help.

If only someone else had walked to the shack that morning. If only she hadn't come alone. Was this fate laughing at her, punishing her for refusing to give Malfoy a second chance? She'd wanted to, hadn't she? It had been regret and longing that rang through her that night they took her away. Regret that she was given the chance to remedy, a second chance she had squandered. But none of that mattered now. She doubted she would get a third.

He'd dragged her back to the tree line. In seconds they'd be concealed from sight. Within its shadows. Lost. She was jerked unceremoniously over large roots littered with rocks that raked up her back, the snow did little to protect her head from the crack of the impact. Pain erupted in the back of her head and her vision swam. Thunder pounded in her ears, red lightning flashed. Sharp pain jabbed the back of her calf. Snow was falling. The world tilted.

It took a moment for her brain to register the sound of the duel that was happening far too close to her head. The tree branches were coming into focus above her but she still couldn't make sense of the shouting. Sparks flew back and forth above her, red and green, green and red. By the time she registered the warmth it was smothering her. Without pausing to think she pulled it in, focusing solely on the chord that gagged her and snapping it clean off. Her magic pulsed out.

Ignoring the throbbing pain at the back of her head, she pulled herself up and began frantically tearing at the chords that still loosely bound her wrists and torso. She choked on relief as they fell away, wasting no time before moving to the ones left around her legs.

Someone dropped to the ground next to her, a hand reaching out to grip her arm. She pulled away and instinctively swung out blindly toward her assailant, throwing both magic and her elbow hard. But the magic fizzled and they grabbed her arm mid-swing and she couldn't break free. Her free hand swung around, connecting with some part of their face before grappling with the hand that still held her firmly. She shoved as hard as she could against them. Now they had her other wrist. She gasped, scrambling her still bound legs. Her breath caught. She reached for more magic. Desperate to get away. Not again. Not again. Not again.

"Williams, it's me."

The voice was muffled. Distant to her panic stricken senses. But some part of her felt the familiarity and paused.

"Look at me," he said.

And she did, her eyes locking with Malfoy's. Her brain still lagged a moment, trying to make sense out of his presence. Panic still thrummed through her veins. Her eyes darted around for any sign of the hooded man, fearing he might jump out again and ambush them both. But there was no sign of anyone else. The only evidence of their struggle was the displaced snow and their labored breathing.

"You're okay," Malfoy was saying. "He's gone. You're okay."

The adrenaline fraying her nerves wouldn't let her fully believe him. Goosebumps skittered across her skin and her whole body trembled. Her chest was so tight that she thought it might burst if she tried to force air into it. A small gasping sob escaped her lips.

"Williams?" he said, concern lining every corner of her name.

She dropped her forehead against her hand and fought to contain the scream that wanted to rip out of her throat. Her breaths were coming in shuddered gasps. At the peripheral of her awareness she registered his grip on her wrist and arm loosening, and then his arms wrapped around her, cradling her shaking form against his chest.

"You're okay," he repeated. "I've got you."

She grabbed a fist full of his shirt and sobbed. The well of emotion that she'd walled up within herself finally broke loose and spilled over. Everything she'd pushed down, everything she'd buried deep within herself since the day they'd marched her out of the castle. Some from before even then. Her shoulders shuddered under the weight of all of it at once as she cried and cried. The warm pressure of his arms was just enough to keep her from unravelling completely.

She had no idea how long they sat there in a crumpled heap of dirt and snow, but eventually her breathing began to even out and the well of tears dried up. For a moment, with her eyes closed, it felt like it must have been some terrible nightmare that she'd just woken up from, and the details would soon start slipping away from her memory. But her awareness was slowly returning to the present moment and tracked through the aftermath of what had happened. Her knees throbbed dully from the fall, her back stung from being dragged, cold snow soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, and her fingers trembled at the memory of the chords binding her wrists and the helpless terror she'd felt.

Her hands clutched tighter to Malfoy, his own grip around her tightening reflexively. He murmured reassurances that she was okay and she breathed in his scent. The tension seeped out of her body, taking all of her energy with it, and she slumped a little farther against him. She caught another whiff of that scent and never wanted to smell anything else ever again. She never wanted to move again. It was comfortable, it was- it was-

Her eyes snapped open, the logical portion of her brain finally resuming normal functions long enough to realize that she was clutching very tightly to Malfoy. Heat rose in her cheeks and she pulled away from him, albeit less gracefully than she would have liked and due in no small part to him having had his arms wrapped around her. She caught a glimpse of his somber expression, clearly glad to finally have her off of him. There was a very obvious damp spot on his shirt where she'd buried her face to cry and she willed the ground to open up and swallow her. If there was anything resembling a god out there they would show her this tiny mercy before Malfoy made some snide comment about how she'd broken down or how she'd made a mess of his shirt or how she'd-

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," she said shortly.

She felt the very distinct cold void that his presence had left. She caught herself wishing she could breath in his scent one more time. The thought had her climbing to her feet, keeping her face angled away from him as if he might be able to read her thoughts from her expression. But she rose too fast, her head throbbed, she wavered. Her vision went black with white dots dancing around. She closed her eyes and forced a few measured breaths to steady herself.

When the wave of dizziness passed she blinked her eyes open again, grateful for the support of the railing she'd grabbed. But there was no railing. As her bearings returned she once again found herself grabbing Malfoy for support. For the briefest of moments she stared at where his hand gripped her elbow, struggling to reconcile the desire to rip away from him with the desire to hold on with both hands. It was impossible to say which one of them released their grip first, but Kaelix's arm twitched as she fought off the urge to shake the lingering feeling of his touch away.

She had to leave. Now.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Anywhere," she said, because she honestly hadn't thought past the need to get away from him.

"That's a bit vague," he said, following her. "Now what are you doing?"

She'd crouched abruptly to root around in the snow. "My wand is here somewhere."

"Accio wand," said Malfoy.

Kaelix looked up as her wand flew out of the snow twenty feet in front of them and flew straight into Malfoy's hand. Nice to know that magic was still working for some people. He held it aloft for her and she took it, silently pocketing the cursed sliver of wood before setting off again.

"Now what?" he asked.

She glanced to find him still following her. "What does it matter to you?"

"I'm pretty sure I just saved your life, which means if you drop dead now it would skew my average," he said.

She stopped and stared at him, her brow furrowed. "Why are you here?"

"I thought that was rather obvious," glancing back toward the forest.

"You just happened to be walking this way? At just the right time?"

His jaw clenched, "I heard you scream."

"I didn't scream," she countered.

"You must have because I heard it."

But she hadn't, had she? Her mind traced back through the moments. Running through the trees. Stumbling into the snow. Her wand flying. His shadow looming. Her hands trembled.

"I don't know what you heard but it wasn't me," she said, though her voice lacked any tone of accusation as she set off again.

She needed to put distance between herself and whoever that hooded man had been. She needed to put distance between herself and Malfoy. She didn't need anyone thinking she'd fallen for his lies again.

"Hospital Wing, then?" he said, falling into step beside her.

She didn't like the small haze of deja vu that settled over her shoulders. It was too similar, walking this path back toward the village with him. Unease rippled through her.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

They reached the edge of the village and she wiped at her face, hoping her eyes weren't too obviously tear stained. She picked up her pace, her face lowered.

"I think we should leave that to Madame Pomfrey to decide," he said.

"Your suggestion has been noted, it has also been ignored," she said, smoothing out her hair.

"It wasn't so much a suggestion as it was a promise to not leave you alone until you go."

She scoffed. "And if I still refuse, what then? You'll drag me there yourself?" Her voice cracked on the last word.

"I wouldn't drag you anywhere right now, but I would follow you around until I'm sure you're okay," he said.

"You're an overly cautious ass," she snapped, walking as quickly as she possibly could.

"And you're an overly stubborn ass," he quipped.

"I'd rather be a stubborn ass than a cautious ass."

He shrugged, "Either way you're an ass that's going to the Hospital Wing."

"Fine," she conceded, "if that's the only way to get your cautious ass to leave me alone."

"Whatever you need to tell your stubborn ass to get it to the Hospital Wing is fine with me."

"Don't act like my exhaustion is somehow a win for you."

"I'll take what I can get."

"What does it matter to you anyway?"

"I swear we've had this part of the conversation already," he said with mock confusion.

"I tried, you dodged the question, because you're just pretending. Again."

"I'm not and I never was. Do you know who that was back there?"

"Yeah, right before he gagged me and started dragging me away, he introduced himself like a real gentleman."

"And you didn't see his face?"

"I was a little preoccupied," she snapped, "next time I'll be sure to ask for a photo."

"Do you think it could have been your Inn Man?"

"Wha-" Kaelix tripped on a loose cobble and nearly lost her footing. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugged, "I always thought it was strange that he wouldn't tell you who he was. Like he had something to hide."

She didn't respond right away, her mind tracked through the memories. The stature, the gait.

"It wasn't him," she said with a shake of her head.

Malfoy scratched his jaw and contemplated his next words before he spoke. "You said you didn't get a good look at him though."

"The Inn Man is taller, wider shoulders."

"So maybe he sent someone?"

"Maybe," she said.

They were approaching the train station when she caught the hint of a smile on Malfoy's lips.

"What's so amusing?" she demanded.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how we always seem to find ourselves escorting each other to the Hospital Wing. Which means it's my turn next," he said.

"One time is not 'always'," she corrected. "And that's not exactly amusing."

"Maybe not amusing-funny but definitely amusing-interesting. Kind of like-"

But he stopped short and Kaelix didn't have to ask why. Professor Dumbledore had appeared ahead of them on the platform, carriage waiting. She glanced at Malfoy but he just shrugged as they approached the Old Man. It was the first time she'd seen him since he'd left her in Arthur Weasley's semi-capable hands at the Ministry. He looked the same and his demeanor was similar to what it had been then too. He was calm but alert, with an underlying sense of urgency. Anxiety crept up her spine at the similarity and what his sudden appearance might mean.

"Kaelix, Draco," he nodded to each as they approached. "If you would please accompany me back to the castle, I'd like a word with you both."

Kaelix swallowed a lump but nodded and climbed in the carriage as directed. An awkward silence settled between them as the carriage made its way back to the castle. Dumbledore offered nothing more about the nature of what he wanted to speak to them about, which left Kaelix's mind to wander down worst case scenarios. Perhaps her apathetic participation in her classes finally caught up to her. Or Umbridge had finally managed to pull the right strings to send her back to Azkaban. Just as she was about to ask, Malfoy beat her to it.

"Professor, we were just on our way to-"

"I'm aware. We'll discuss it further in the comfort of my office," he replied with a knowing smile.

Kaelix wasn't sure if he actually knew where they'd been headed but the message was clear, he didn't want to talk about it here. None of them spoke for the duration of the carriage ride back to the castle or as they navigated the corridors to the gargoyle who kept watch outside the Headmaster's office on the fifth floor. If Dumbledore was as surprised to see Madame Pomfrey waiting there as Kaelix and Draco were, he did not show it. Instead he greeted her warmly and then supplied the password, Toffee Clusters, to the gargoyle that guarded the spiral stair to his office.

When he ushered them into his office, Kaelix found that it looked largely unchanged from the last time she'd been there. Though she was almost certain that the office had moved by a few floors since then. Despite the potential relocation, the same snoozing portraits lined the walls, the same silver trinkets remained set out on the tables at each side of the room, the phoenix sat eyeing them from his perch, and the tattered sorting hat was tucked away among a number of ancient looking spellbooks. Dumbledore gestured for Kaelix and Malfoy to take the two armchairs opposite his desk.

"I've been informed that you two were attacked at the edge of the forest near Hogsmeade village just now," he said as he settled into his own seat.

Kaelix's jaw slackened a bit. "How-"

"Merlin, Albus, why didn't you say something sooner?" Madame Pomfrey demanded, then withdrew her wand and began a series of sharp movements and muttered spells.

"My apologies, Poppy, but I believe discretion is in order and Mundungus had informed me that he did not believe any significant harm had come to them."

"Mundungus is a poor judge when it comes to significant harm," she said tersely, examining an image she'd conjured behind Kaelix's head. "If he'd been doing his job right they wouldn't have been in harm's way in the first place."

"A matter to be discussed at another time," said Dumbledore. "There are more pressing topics for today."

"How did you know?" Kaelix asked.

She winced as Madame Pomfrey cast a spell where the rock hit the back of her head.

"Keep still, Miss Williams," she ordered, then added to Dumbledore, "this one has a minor concussion."

Kaelix remained motionless as Madame continued to work, her gaze locked with Dumbledore's.

"I'm afraid we no longer have the luxury of being less than overly cautious. We have stationed wizards in Hogsmeade during student weekends, as a precautionary measure."

Madame Pomfrey had moved on to look Malfoy over, so Kaelix ran a hand over the back of her head, it was still tender but otherwise there was no sign of the rock impact.

"If Mundungus was babysitting me, then where was he when I was flat on my back being dragged away from the village?" she asked.

"Unfortunately he had stepped away and did not realize what was happening until Draco ran past him to intercept you. I assure you, it will not happen again."

"I said I'm fine," Malfoy snapped.

"That left arm begs to differ, Mr. Malfoy."

Kaelix's eyes snapped over to see the charred remains of the lower left sleeve of Malfoy's shirt a moment before Madame Pomfrey magicked it away. The skin beneath the sleeve was an angry red, raw and marbled with waxy white patches. His hand twitched. How had she not noticed before?

"It doesn't hurt," he argued.

"That's not the good sign that you think it is. If we don't treat it soon then the pain is going to come, and it will come all at once," she said. "Headmaster?"

"Of course, Poppy," he replied.

With a curt nod she slipped around his desk and disappeared through the wall. Kaelix blinked. Before she could logic out what kind of magic had allowed the Healer to pass directly through a very solid wall, she had reappeared, carrying bandages and a few glass vials. She made quick work of treating the burn on Malfoy's arm, applying a generous layer of orange paste to the area before wrapping his forearm from wrist to above his elbow.

"You'll need to come by the Hospital Wing once a day for fresh paste until it's healed. And no quidditch for at least a week. Drink," she ordered, holding a potion out to each of them, which they drank without protest.

"Thank you, Poppy. My apologies for the covert nature of this request," said Dumbledore.

"Just promise me you won't let them out of your sight again," she said.

Dumbledore suppressed a smile, "I'll do my best."

She nodded, looked them both up and down once more, and left.

"Now that we're all in one piece," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to know what happened?"

But Kaelix hadn't heard him, her gaze was stuck on Malfoy's bandaged arm.

I'm here aren't I? He'd shown up when no one else had.

"Kaelix?"

I'm here aren't I? He'd saved her.

"Kaelix?"

"What?" she snapped back to the present.

"Can you tell me what happened before Draco showed up to assist you?" Dumbledore asked.

"I don't really know," she said, a chill chasing a shiver down her spine. She rubbed her arm. "I was out near the Shrieking Shack and there was a man. It didn't feel right so I tried to get back to the village but he chased me. I couldn't outrun him. He caught me and I couldn't get away. I thought- I-" but she couldn't finish.

"He was taking her to the woods when I got there. We duelled for a bit but then he just gave up and ran," Malfoy finished.

Dumbledore nodded. "Do either of you have any idea who this man was or who he might be affiliated with?"

Kaelix shook her head. "He was wearing a hood, I never got a look at his face."

"It could have been that man that kept meeting you in Hogsmeade last year," Malfoy suggested again.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in her direction but she shook her head again.

"I told you it wasn't him, it wasn't tall enough to be him."

"And I said, what if he sent someone else to do it for him. He never told you who he was or what he wanted, did he? Just gave you vague clues and conspiracy theories."

"No but he never threatened me either. And everything he told me turned out to be true anyway, why try to take me now when he's had four other opportunities to do it?"

Malfoy scoffed, "Maybe something's changed? Besides, most people don't openly threaten you if they're planning to kidnap you."

"Umbridge did," she snapped, instantly wishing she could take it back.

Dumbledore's eyes stared at her intensely and Kaelix hoped the woman didn't have some sort of eavesdropping spell cast on the Headmaster's office. Then she realized that was why he didn't ask them anything until they were here, in his office, where Umbridge couldn't get to them.

"What exactly did Professor Umbridge say to you?" His voice was even but she could see the inner fire roiling behind his half moon spectacles.

She sighed. "She gave me detention my second day back and while I was there she all but told me it was her life's mission to put me back in Azkaban. She said 'Those who belong in captivity will always end up there. One way or another.'."

Dumbledore laced his fingers together, leaning forward with his elbows on the desktop. "Has she said anything else of that nature to you since then?"

"No," she confirmed. "You think it was her?"

"You think Umbridge tried to kidnap you?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair and paused to contemplate something, gazing briefly at the ceiling before withdrawing his wand and pointing it nowhere in particular. The ghostly image of a bird shot out and disappeared right through the wall of his office.

"Why is she so determined to send me back?" Kaelix asked.

He returned his gaze to Kaelix, considering her and what he was willing to tell her.

"The Ministry thinks you're something that you're not," he offered.

"A Wegenstehl? Why do they think that?"

"They received an anonymous tip that you were teaching yourself how to become one, which is obviously false."

"Why didn't they just ask me that then? They asked me everything else under the sun during that Inquiry but they could have saved us all the trouble if they'd just asked me that straight."

"That would have meant admitting things that the Ministry is not prepared to admit, even behind the closed doors of an inquiry room."

"What exactly is a Wegenstehl? And why would being one mean an express ticket to Azkaban?" Malfoy asked.

"I'm afraid very little is known about them as the Ministry would prefer to pretend they never existed. There is a general consensus that they use magic differently than we wizards do, though very few understand how. The gap of knowledge is often filled with fear of the unknown, which fuelled rumors that spun into tales of dangerous beings, far more powerful than wizards. There were also rumors years ago of a section within the Department of Mysteries that was tasked with researching them and documenting the findings. But, as I am sure you might have deduced, they never made any of their findings public. Not without significant censoring prior to publication. The truth of what the Ministry might have learned about the Wegenstehl has remained locked away within their walls."

"If you don't even know how a Wegenstehl does magic then how did you convince them to let me out? Zabini said you threatened the Ministry with something?"

There was a twinkle in his eye and a small smile tugged at the corner of his beard. "I wouldn't say that I threatened anyone, perhaps just… strongly suggested the potential consequences of keeping an innocent child in a place like Azkaban without a trial and without any evidence. We are fortunate that they finally relented when they did, I'm afraid I've fallen into misfavor with the Ministry of late."

"So Umbridge's plan is what then, to frame her? To somehow prove she's what they think she is?" Malfoy asked.

"I don't presume to know the lengths to which Professor Umbridge will go to do what she believes is right," said Dumbledore.

Kaelix scoffed. "I do, and it includes both framing and murder."

"Be assured that she will accomplish neither of those within the walls of Hogwarts while I am here," he said.

Kaelix didn't expect to find comfort in the Old Man's words but he said them with such finality that she actually felt safe. For the moment. If it came down to it, Dumbledore could certainly take Umbridge.

"Now," he said, withdrawing a small box from his desk and offering each of them a lemon drop. "I'd like to know more about this man who's been visiting you in Hogsmeade?"

"Oh, er-" she couldn't help feeling somewhat like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I'm not sure how much I really know about him."

"He met up with her on every Hogsmeade trip third year. He wanted to gain her trust so he told her who her parents were and then sent her on a wild goose chase over some dead wizards," Malfoy filled in for her.

Kaelix's jaw clenched as she met Dumbledore's questioning gaze. "Well, what did you expect? You told me you didn't know who my parents were."

"Did he mention why he wanted to gain your trust?" he asked.

"Not directly but he said he might need my help with something. Like if he helped me figure out who my parents were then I'd owe him or something."

Dumbledore leaned forward again. "I understand that I have not been as forthright with you regarding your parents as you might have preferred, but please understand that at the time I believed not knowing was better than the weight of knowing."

"That almost sounded like an apology," she said.

He smiled. "Forgive an old man for his well intentioned mistakes. I've made my fair share over the years and will certainly make more. What else did you discuss with this man?"

"He told me about three different people who all went missing out of the blue and then ended up dead within a year or so. Alexandra Fuhrman, Michael O'Connor, and Katherine Holstein. He implied that there was a connection between their deaths and that they were murders, not accidents. He wouldn't say why, other than vague allusions to the idea that the Ministry didn't want these people around anymore because they thought they were dangerous. Sound familiar?"

Dumbledore only smiled and waited for her to continue.

"I already recognized the names because Mr. Ollivander had told me about them. Our wands are all connected, share cores from the same Hippogriff. I also know that Michael O'Connor was asking around the Department of Mysteries before he went missing, about Wegenstehl, and they didn't seem too fond of that. So it seems like I'm not the first one they've tried to lock up for getting too curious."

"It certainly does."

"He also said he could have kept me out of Azkaban, if I'd trusted him when I had the chance. Didn't say how he would have been able to do that but he seemed very confident."

"Wait, you've seen him since you went to Azkaban?" Malfoy asked.

She nodded. "That first day I was back, in Hogsmeade."

"An impossible claim to disprove after the fact, unfortunately," said Dumbledore.

"He also told me Austin is alive," she said bluntly.

Her attempt to catch the Old Man off guard in hopes of eliciting a genuine reaction was futile, he didn't even blink.

"It is my understanding that when he was taken from the scene of the fire he was still alive-" Kaelix took a sharp breath "-but he died shortly thereafter."

"So you were there, that's a point for him," she said. "How do you know he died after he was taken?"

"He was taken to St. Mungos in an attempt to save his life. Unfortunately it was unsuccessful," he said.

"You're sure about that?"

"If that is not the truth then I do not know what is."

Silence hung between them for a moment and Kaelix wondered if she should ask him to check, just to be sure. But she knew he would only find evidence to back up the story the Ministry wanted them to believe, whether it was the truth or not. The Inn Man had been right about so many things, why not this too?

"What's the point of the Ministry trying to kidnap her?" Malfoy asked.

"There is a great deal of the Ministry's motivations that I am not privy to at the moment and could only guess that they intended to take her and somehow prove that she had learned something of the Wegenstehls' abilities. However, we cannot be certain that was their intent, if it even was the Ministry at all."

"We can't be certain it wasn't just Umbridge, acting under her self bestowed authority as judge, jury, and executioner," Kaelix snapped.

She couldn't be certain but it appeared the Old Man was fighting to contain a smile of amusement. "I believe it goes without saying that Professor Umbridge should not hear of today's incident or our conversations here, nor should anyone else not currently present. Am I understood?"

They both nodded.

"Very well. Draco, I'm afraid I have a private matter to discuss with Kaelix briefly. If you wouldn't mind waiting in the corridor a moment."

She felt his gaze track to her before he stood to leave the room. A piece of her constricted as the door closed behind him, a void hollowed out within her. Dumledore turned his penetrating gaze to her.

"I'm afraid I owe you a rather significant apology. For nearly a year and a half one of my highest priorities was getting you out of Azkaban. Unfortunately, once I accomplished that, there were even more pressing matters vying for my attention. Such was the nature of these matters, they served as the perfect distraction to facilitate my negligence."

She looked away and attempted to school her features into indifference. "It's fine, I managed-"

"I will not do you the continued disservice of letting you dismiss this so easily. Physically returning from Azkaban is one thing, but emotionally returning is an entirely different battle. And it is one that you should not have had to face alone."

Kaelix pulled at a loose string on her cloak. "So, what, you going to send me back to Dr. Hadley? I'm sure she'd love to hear about what I've been up to since I last saw her."

"I was thinking someone already familiar with what you've gone through. However, if you're certain you'd like to speak with Dr. Hadley I'm sure we can arrange something, though it may take some convincing."

A small half hearted scoff escaped her lips. "I was joking, Professor."

"I'm glad you're in such spirits," he said with a warm smile. "Please know that I am always available should you feel like discussing anything, as are all the other members of the order. If it is any comfort, while we do need to keep up appearances for the duration of Professor Umbridge's tenure here and appear as if things are back to normal, none of the staff expect you to be. You are far more important than any assignment or grade."

Not knowing what to say, she just nodded. It had been weeks since she'd come back. Weeks without anything but here finally was something. And it was a relief.

"The only things that I would ask of you, is not to stray from the bounds of the village alone again and to please let me know if this Inn Man, or anyone else for that matter, approaches you about anything."

"Deal," she agreed.

His warm smile remained. Feeling dismissed, she rose and crossed to the door, but his voice caught her hand on the knob.

"I don't think I need to emphasize how very fortunate it was that Draco was there to help you today. Friendship is its own reward, of course, but perhaps someday you might return the favor."

She felt the urge to ask him what the hell he meant by that, but quickly reasoned that she was reading into nothing. Dumbledore certainly had more important things to worry about than the petty squabbles of his students. His words were just words. Nothing more.

"Of course, Professor," she said, before slipping out the door.

As she descended the spiral stair she realized that no matter how much she kept her head down, no matter how well she behaved, they weren't going to just leave her alone. Umbridge wasn't going to leave her alone. She flexed her left hand. There would be no flying under the radar with that woman, no conforming to the Ministry's requirements, because they'd already made up their minds. They'd proven today just how far they were willing to go to send her back and for the first time she felt determined to beat them.

She stopped short off the bottom step when she saw Malfoy still lingering in the corridor. He pushed off the opposite wall and stepped toward her.

"I wasn't sure if-"

"You didn't have to-"

They started at the same time.

"Thank you," she said before she could think herself out of it. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you for that."

He sighed and shook his head, "You can make it up to me by vouching for my impeccable timing."

But his attempt at lightheartedness sent tears pricking at her eyes. She tried to blink them away.

"I'm serious, I don't-" a shiver went down the back of her neck at the thought, "I don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't-"

"Don't," he said.

She looked down the corridor to avoid his gaze and swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to flee but she couldn't bring her feet to move, and she knew that some part of her didn't want to.

"You should eat lunch with us tomorrow," he suggested.

"I should eat lunch with you?" she repeated, her gaze still fixed on nothing.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

That traitorous part of her heart leapt at the thought. "Why?"

"Oh… you know Zabini and Nott, they really miss having you around to even the playing field."

"Zabini and Nott?" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

"Zabini and Nott miss me?" she asked slowly.

"Terribly," he said with the hint of a grin.

She met his gaze once again, "Why don't they just tell me that themselves?"

"Well," he said, scratching his head before rubbing the back of his neck, "you know how they are, a pair of spineless grindylows, those two."

"So, they're afraid to ask me themselves because… what, they're afraid I'll say no?"

He nodded. "They think you're still pissed at them for some stupid shit they said last year." He worked his jaw. "Stupid shit they didn't even mean."

Her eyes stung. "If they didn't mean it then why did they say it?"

"Because they're idiots," he said earnestly. "Complete fools."

She took a steadying breath, "That's not good enough. They need to explain, they need to apologize."

"They don't know how," he said, taking a step forward as if to emphasize his words. "And they're afraid it wouldn't be good enough anyway."

Her eyes slid over the bandages covering his left arm and her gut twisted. But those words still echoed unbidden through her mind.

"Do you have any idea how many times I had to relive what you said to me?"

"I don't," he admitted. "But I relived it too, wishing over and over again that I could take it back, that I had never said it."

"I picked apart every word we ever exchanged, trying to figure out where it happened."

"Where what happened?" he asked.

"Where you turned me into a god damned fool."

He averted his gaze, "I didn't mean any of it."

"Damn it, can't you even look me in the eye when you lie to me?"

He looked up as a flash of anger and sadness rippled across his face. He stepped closer, too close. She caught his scent again, which immediately reminded her of the weight of his arms around her and she wished he'd pull her in again. She could see flecks of green in his grey eyes as he locked his gaze with hers.

"I'm the god damned fool for what I said to you that day. I didn't mean any of it."

"You can't just save my life and pretend what you said doesn't matter."

"What else do you want me to do?"

"Tell me why you said it."

"You wouldn't understand and what difference does it make when I told you I didn't mean it?"

"You don't get to decide what I'll understand, you get to explain yourself and I get to decide if I understand or not. If you didn't mean any of it, why did you say it?"

"Because I was afraid. Because I didn't want- I couldn't-" he took a breath, hesitation flickering in his eyes. "I just figured it would be easier to lose you if I pushed you away, rather than you waking up one day and realizing that I was a waste of time."

He looked for a moment like he would take those words back if he could. Like they'd slipped out without permission and he was afraid of what she might think of them. His hand moved as if to grab hers but then withdrew. Her hand flexed and relaxed at the thought. She'd been convinced that he had shown her his true colors in that fit of rage on the quidditch field but this moment was far more vibrant.

His jaw set and she watched him shut down. "Look, I get it, it's over. I screwed it up, this is all on me and I know that. I just- I can't stand the thought of you walking around still thinking that you're just the punchline of a joke, because you aren't. Even if we can't be friends again you have to know that we were before."

He stepped back and turned down the corridor. There was something so final about his words and his demeanor, and maybe the near kidnapping and possible murder was still a factor, but Kaelix felt like if he kept walking he'd never come back. And it all seemed so silly and so obvious now. He'd tried, he'd tried so many times and she'd been too damn stubborn. But now, watching him walk away from her, she knew.

"Malfoy," she breathed his name as an urgent plea.

She'd already caught up to him by the time he turned around. He caught her just as she crashed into him, stumbling slightly but staying upright as she flung her arms around him. He reciprocated, holding her tightly to him. She breathed in the smell of his clothes and the tightness in her chest loosened further. The full weight of how much she’d missed him crashed into her and she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“I know,” he conceded.

She pulled back. “If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll kill you.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a laugh. “Is that a yes for lunch then?”

She grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy! Still alive over here, still toiling away at this slower than I would like. This chapter has some of my favorite moments that I've had written for a very, very, very, very, very *checks watch* very, very, very long time (see: Draco trying to pretend Zabini and Nott miss Kaelix when he's CLEARLY TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF) and another part that is much more recently developed but still dear to my heart (see: Draco saving Kaelix and her collapsing into him *wipes tear*). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thank you so, so much for continuing to read and be patient with me, and if you have a few minutes please let me know what you thought about this chapter! XX


	8. Cat's Out of the Bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 Recap: Kaelix is minding her business and some wack job tries to kidnap her from Hogsmeade; she suddenly can't do magic which is suspicious; Malfoy manages to make himself useful for a change and saves her ass, and he smells good doing it; then Dumbledore shows up which might be suspicious if he wasn't Dumbledore; they have a nice chat in his office about who might have tried to kidnap her, Malfoy thinks it's Inn Man, Kaelix thinks its Umbridge, and Dumbledore thinks it's (REDACTED); Kaelix is surprised that Malfoy waited for her even though she really shouldn't be; Malfoy tries to apologize (sort of); Kaelix finally realizes how much she misses him and that he's telling the truth about not meaning what he said before and then they hug and it's soft.

**Chapter 8: Cat's Out of the Bag**

There was a brief moment the next morning after Kaelix woke up where she thought the events of the previous day had been a fever dream. But as the last dregs of sleep induced fog dissipated from her brain, she remembered that it had all actually happened. The residual unease of the kidnapping attempt echoed through her nerves before her thoughts turned to her conversation with Malfoy. She smiled to herself at the memory.

Despite the ultimately warm reunion they'd had, she was still nervous as she made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. It had been quite some time since she'd even so much as looked in the direction of the Slytherin table at meal time, let alone entertained the idea of attempting to sit with them. But Malfoy had asked her to come, insisting that she not abandon him for even one more meal for the remainder of the term. Apparently she owed him for all the meals she'd missed. She shook the smile from her lips, feeling a bit foolish over her own giddiness.

Sunday morning breakfasts were some of the least populous meals of the week, and most of those who had made their way down were still half asleep. It was the perfect opportunity for her to slip back to the Slytherin table without too many prying eyes tracing her movements. Still she hesitated as she stepped into the Great Hall, her stomach twisting a bit, that damned voice of doubt still gnawing at her nerves. A bit of dread, mixed with a bit of elation. She scanned the table and spotted him about a third of the way down, picking disinterestedly at the food on his plate. A bit farther still were Zabini and Nott, chatting in quiet tones.

With a bracing breath she started down the length of the table between the bench and the wall. Anxiety rose in her chest with each step. Her gaze was locked on the open seat just next to Malfoy, she didn't dare glance at anyone else. She stopped just behind him but with his head propped against his fist he hadn't noticed her approach. She was about to clear her throat when her eyes almost involuntarily shifted just in time to see Nott do a double take, his face full of both relief and disbelief. His mouth still hung half open, frozen in the middle of whatever he'd been saying to Zabini. She couldn't help the ghost of a smirk that formed on her lips.

The moment seemed to stretch on for an almost awkward amount of time, and the longer it stretched the more she started to contemplate backing away. She couldn't just say 'hey', that was so utterly lame. But Malfoy had noticed Nott and saved her by snapping at him.

"What are you staring at?"

Nott's gaze flickered down to Malfoy and then back up to her. He didn't say a word, just looked hesitant but hopeful.

"What are you-"Malfoy said, as he finally turned around. "Oh!"

His expression turned from confused irritation to curious to relieved to happy in the span of a fraction of a second. His mouth was caught between his typical smirk and a smile, the corner twitching the way it always did when he was fighting it off. He straightened and gestured to the seat next to him. She fought to contain her own smile of amusement, not wanting to look like a preening idiot.

"Good morning, Williams," Malfoy said. "Care for some breakfast?"

"Morning," she replied, reaching for some toast. "Don't mind if I do."

There was a strangled noise somewhere between a sniffle and a sob and a gasp. They both looked down the table to see Nott crying dramatically into a napkin.

"Bloody hell, Nott, what are you doing?" Malfoy asked.

Nott dabbed at his eyes. "I'm just…" he blew his nose, "so happy…" another sniffle, "that mum and dad have finally stopped fighting."

Kaelix shook with silent laughter, Malfoy looked less amused. He grabbed the biscuit off his plate and threw it at Nott's head.

"Stop it, you sodding git," he snapped.

Nott ducked in time for the projectile to clear his head and land on the Ravenclaw table, earning them a disapproving look from the bleary eyed prefect. Nott and Zabini quickly slid down the table to join them.

"Does this mean that you two finally kissed and made up?" Nott asked.

Kaelix choked on her pumpkin juice and Malfoy gave him a malevolent stare.

"Kaelix, I don't think we need to tell you how unbearable he was without you," Zabini said.

"Oh, I think you do," she said with a sly grin.

"Couldn't even have a conversation with him about the weather without getting told to shove off. It was like he was permanently PMSing," he said.

"Opposed to when you're here and he's only like that once or twice a month," Nott added.

"Just because she's back, doesn't mean I won't murder both of you," Malfoy growelled. "Multiple. Times."

"See, that's the kind of affectionate banter that's made you so popular around here recently. Couldn't chase people away if you tried with that much charm," Nott said.

"Did it ever occur to you two that the reason I told you to shove off was because you're both about as charming as the piss end of a skrewt?" he said.

"I think you've got that backward, hasn't he, Nott?" Zabini asked.

"Definitely, he's the piss end of a skrewt and we've just been avoiding the flames as best we can. But now that Williams is back maybe he'll return to that sunny disposition we know he has buried somewhere very, very, very _, very, very_ deep within himself."

"Wait, what's a skrewt?" she asked, pouring herself a glass of juice.

"Oh," Nott said, "oh dear. Here we've been carrying on with this colorful metaphor and Williams hasn't even fully appreciated it yet."

"There's nothing more to appreciate," Malfoy said.

"There's an entire mental image to appreciate," Nott said.

"Care of Magical Creatures was an experience last year," Zabini conceded.

Nott swiped a strip of bacon before elaborating, "First class of the term, Professor Hagrid brings out these creatures he calls Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"Blast. Ended…" Kaelix said, slowly, trying to conjure a picture in her mind but only getting so far as a sort of cannon with legs.

"I assure you that whatever you're picturing right now does not do them justice," Nott said.

Zabini nodded with a grimace. "He bred a manticore with a fire crab-"

"Don't even want to know how that happened," Nott interjected.

"-Which gives you a fire-crab-scorpion-thing, because each of those individually were not dangerous enough, apparently."

"But the important part," Nott said, "is that they randomly shoot fire sparks out their arses, which makes it the perfect metaphor for this one."

He gestured to Malfoy, who's frown instantly returned.

"That does sound like a good metaphor," Kaelix agreed.

"If I'd realized that this was how I'd be treated, I never would have invited you back here," Malfoy said.

Kaelix's chest tightened. Nott and Zabini's grins dropped, a flicker of distress crossing their features. She looked down at the half eaten toast in front of her and wanted to melt into a puddle.

"What?" he said.

Did he really not realize? How could he not realize? After everything...

"Too soon, mate," Nott gestured, "too soon."

"Wha- No- I was only joking," he said, eyes wide. "I didn't- You lot were the ones-" he stopped, gathered himself and looked at Kaelix. "I absolutely want you here. It's those two I'm not so sure about," he threw a resentful glare across the table.

She considered him, a highlight reel of the past few months spinning through her mind, culminating in that earnest look. A look he so rarely used. But she couldn't pretend his words hadn't hurt, even if they were in jest.

Her lips were tight. "You don't get to joke about that particular topic."

"That's fair," he said with a nod. "I won't, I promise."

She had half a mind to lecture him about making promises that he couldn't keep. But she didn't, because it wouldn't do anyone any good. And because she didn't want to. She just wanted things back to normal.

"Okay," she said.

The air was still tense, Kaelix shifted in her seat in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

"That's the kind of thing that gets you compared to the piss end of a skrewt," Zabini said.

She couldn't help a small smile and she shot Zabini a grateful look. "I really need to see one of these for myself. Strictly scientific purposes of course."

"Fortunately, that's not possible," Malfoy said.

Kaelix opened her mouth to protest.

" _Unfortunately_ , he's not lying," Nott interjected. "We never figured out what they ate, apart from each other that is. They all went cannibalistic and then the last of them starved to death."

She shifted a critical gaze to Malfoy.

"What? I had nothing to do with the entire species starving to death, don't look at me like that," he said.

She narrowed her gaze.

"You really think I sabotaged an entire species in order to prevent you from experiencing the full effect of these two's half witted attempt at a clever insult? That I wouldn't have known about until now anyway?"

Kaelix shrugged. "You jumped to that conclusion pretty quickly."

"Maybe you're just predictable," he said.

"Now, now," said Nott, "there's no reason that we can't settle this in a civilized fashion."

All three of them turned to Nott, awaiting his suggestion.

"We'll just transfigure Malfoy into a skrewt," he said, pulling out his wand.

Malfoy jerked back reaching for his own wand, "You _will not_."

Nott was trying to keep a straight face but failing horribly, "Relax, I was only joking."

"That was cruel, Nott. You know he's still twitchy from the ferret incident," said Zabini.

Malfoy's jaw clenched. Kaelix looked between the three of them with a questioning eye.

"What ferret incident?" she asked.

"Nothing," Malfoy said too quickly.

"First you have to understand that our Defense professor last year was a bit…" Zabini started.

"Clinically insane?" Nott offered.

"I was going to say off his rocker," said Zabini. "He came up on this one having a go at Potter and decided to transfigure him into a ferret and bounce him around a bit."

"A professor did that?" she asked in disbelief.

"He was a retired Auror and a bit of an unconventional choice for a teacher. Spent his whole life chasing dark wizards and shadows. Eventually got to the point where he saw them everywhere, whether they were really there or not. Has a magical eye to be able to see in any direction, even through stuff. Paranoid is an understatement," Nott explained.

"And he turned you into a ferret? Did it… hurt?" she asked Malfoy.

He looked a bit sheepish at the memory but shook his head. "I think it was the bouncing that left the bruises."

"Thank Merlin we can laugh about it now, though," Nott said.

Kaelix glanced sideways at Malfoy, who looked annoyed but not entirely off put. He rolled his eyes and glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. Her heart swelled and for the first time in far too long she was more than just indifferent, she was glad to be here. It felt good to be back. It felt so, so good.

It was a bit of a wonder to her, how easy it was to settle back into their quartet over the next few days. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed Nott and Zabini's company as well as Malfoy's. They made every dreadful part of being back at Hogwarts a little more bearable. Despite feeling a bit self conscious about sitting with them again, most of their classmates were too preoccupied with the impending holiday break to pay them any attention at all. Though she certainly didn't miss the hateful glares from Pansy Parkinson.

"Looks like at least one person's noticed me," Kaelix whispered to Malfoy during their final potions class of the term.

"Maybe it wasn't Umbridge who tried to kidnap you after all," he whispered back.

"Hold on, did I just hear you right?" Zabini asked.

"Someone tried to kidnap you? When?" Nott asked.

Kaelix glared at Malfoy. He grimaced and she sighed in resignation.

"Last Hogsmeade trip, keep your voices _down_ ," she said.

"And when were you going to tell us about this?" Nott demanded.

"I don't know, eventually," she said, "but not in the back of a packed classroom for everyone to hear."

"Does this have anything to do with why you were taken to Azkaban?" Zabini asked.

Kaelix dropped the eye of newt into her cauldron and began stirring it counterclockwise as instructed.

"We don't know," Malfoy answered for her.

"Okay, just to be clear," Nott said, "when we asked you to fill us in on the past few months, this should have made the list."

"It's not exactly dinner conversation," she said defensively.

"Counterpoint, we were at _breakfast_. No matter, we'll just have to keep an eye on you until we figure it out," Nott said.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked.

"One of us will just have to be with you at all times. I will volunteer to be your bathroom buddy," Nott offered.

She scoffed, "Absolutely not."

"Be reasonable, if Pansy is out to get you the bathroom would be the perfect place to strike. Don't want to end up like Moaning Myrtle," he said.

"I think I can handle Pansy on my own," she said, sniffing her potion with a wrinkled nose. "Who's Moaning Myrtle?"

"Ghost that haunts the girls second floor toilet where she was killed," Zabini said.

"Do I want to know _how_ she was killed in a toilet?" she asked.

"Giant basilisk, fifty years ago, reappeared during our second year. You've missed a lot more than just classes, actually," Malfoy said.

"Hogwarts: A History didn't mention anything about giant bathroom dwelling snakes," she said.

"Not one of the prouder moments in the school's history," said Zabini.

"Where did we land on the buddy system idea? I'm willing to go behind enemy lines and take the night shift as well," Nott offered.

" _No,_ " Malfoy and Kaelix said at the same time.

"Oh, come on, you'd do the same for me," he argued.

"No, I wouldn't, because that's absurd. The only person who's ever gotten into a Gryffindor dormitory is Black and that was only because he had the passwords," she said. "Stop acting like I'm some helpless damsel that needs your protection."

Malfoy was eyeing her.

"What?" she snapped, harsher than she'd intended.

"Dumbledore did say-"

"Dumbledore said nothing about you lot baby-sitting me twenty-four hours a day." She chopped her eels a little too aggressively and one bit rolled off the table.

Nott was casually stirring his own potion. "What did Dumbledore say…?" he asked slowly.

"He said not to tell anyone else about it for one thing," Kaelix said.

"Okay, well he had to know that wasn't happening," said Zabini. "You've already told Malfoy anyway."

"I didn't tell Malfoy," she snapped, "he was there."

"So you've both kept this from us?" Nott said, shooting Malfoy a look of betrayal.

"He did tell us not to discuss it with anyone else," Malfoy said, tipping his own chopped eels into his cauldron. "But he also said you shouldn't stray off on your own."

"So we don't get to know what all this kidnapping nonsense was about?" Zabini asked.

It was useless, utterly useless.

"You know just about as much as we do. Someone tried to kidnap me from Hogsmeade last weekend, couldn't tell who but I think Umbridge was behind it," she said.

"I still say you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss that Inn Man of yours," Malfoy said.

"Is that what you call the Hogsmeade Mystery Man?" Zabini asked.

Kaelix's knife nearly slipped across her thumb. "What-"

"Don't play stupid, we're not daft," Nott said. "Well, maybe sometimes. But not about this."

"But- You never said anything before?" she said.

"Because _you_ never said anything. We weren't about to start prying into your business, new friendship and all, but I think by now we have a right to a little bit of prying," Nott said.

"We have technically waited over three months to ask why they took you to Azkaban and how Dumbledore really managed to get you out," said Zabini.

She looked between the two of them and then to Malfoy who shrugged.

"I thought you would have figured out by now that we like having you around, but we can only help keep you around if you tell us everything," he said.

She returned to stirring her potion to consider his words. It wasn't her instinct to share things like this, her instincts wanted her to figure it out on her own. It was _easier_ to go it alone. At least it had been, before. Hadn't it? Until recently she hadn't even been able to bring herself to care about any of it, let alone ponder the idea of sharing it with them. It wasn't as if telling them would change anything. The Ministry still would have taken her to Azkaban and they'd still be trying to send her back. If anything, it would endanger the three of them to tell them more about what's happening. After all, Michael O'Connor did turn up dead after asking too many of the wrong questions.

"First year there was that bit with Professor Quirrell drinking unicorn blood and trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. Second year we had the giant snake loose in the plumbing, going around petrifying everyone and killing chickens," Nott said.

"Third year, as you know, we had a mass murderer breaking into the school, turned out that our Defense professor was a werewolf and then, well," Zabini gestured vaguely to Kaelix. "Last year there was the whole debacle at the World Cup with the dark mark and the death eaters, and then we played host to the Triwizard Tournament and Professor Moody turned out to be a death eater in disguise who'd killed his own father."

"And this year we have the wonderful pleasure of watching the Ministry piss all over Dumbledore and try to pretend that You-Know-Who hasn't returned when they know full well he has," said Nott.

"Not to mention dealing with Umbridge, you know she's talking about forming her own club or something? Pansy mentioned it, bragging about being one of the first choice members already," Zabini added.

"What is all of this?" Kaelix asked.

"Our point," Zabini said, "is that whatever's happening with you can't be _that_ weird compared to other recent events. And four brains working on it is probably better than one and a half."

"Okay, okay, I get it," she conceded, "but we're not discussing any more of this in the back of a potions class."

"Don't think for a second that I didn't notice that half brain comment, Zabini," Malfoy said as he began bottling his potion.

"And I was trying to be so subtle," Zabini said, bottling his own potion.

The bell that signalled the end of class sounded, quickly followed by the shuffling of bags, stools, and cauldrons.

"Alright then, Malfoy can fill you in on what he knows, preferably somewhere where you won't be overheard," she said, gathering up her things. "I have Divination, I'll see you at dinner."

Kaelix was halfway to the North Tower when something warmed her pocket. She pulled out the fake galleon that Potter had given her ages ago and watched it update to reflect the time and date of the next meeting for their defense club. Their next meeting was that same evening. A shiver went down her spine at the memory of her magic failing to defend her. Perhaps the boys were right and she could stand to have them watching her back, or perhaps she could do with some extra defense lessons so she could watch her own.

It felt a bit like crashing a party she wasn't invited to when Kaelix made her way to the Room of Requirement that evening. But she _had_ been invited… at one point. It was almost disappointing how unbothersome Potter had become in recent weeks. Almost. He hadn't personally asked her to join them since he'd passed her the fake galleon, but it had warmed up with each successive meeting notification just the same. He'd made it clear that the invitation was standing.

The door to the Room of Requirement was already there when she arrived several minutes early, though it looked wholly different than any of the times she'd been the one to summon it. She found Potter already inside, losing a fight with what appeared to be a very large holiday banner.

"Do you need some help with that?" she asked.

"Wha-no- Hey!" he said.

The end of the banner that he'd been struggling with came down on his head. Kaelix held back a giggle.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, taking a quick look around the rather sizable room.

"Gerroff- Yeah," he said, pulling the banner off his head and haphazardly folding it into a mess before stuffing it into a bottom shelf. "You finally decided to join us?"

"Er- what are these?" she asked, peering up at two golden baubles that hung from the ceiling.

"Oh, nothing," he said, quickly darting over and snatching the baubles down.

But Kaelix had already seen that they contained a picture of his face and elegant script that read ' _HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!'_

"Doing some holiday decorating?" she asked.

"Er- no. It was Dobby the house-elf," he said.

The door creaked open and a blonde Ravenclaw entered with a dreamy, almost vacant expression on her face. Potter stashed the extra baubles and Kaelix followed him over to greet the new arrival.

"Hello," she said vaguely, looking around at the few remaining decorations that Potter hadn't managed to remove just yet. "These are nice, did you put them up?"

"It was Dobby," he repeated.

"Mistletoe," she said, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost directly over the two of them. Kaelix side stepped and Potter jumped out from under it. "Good thinking," she said very seriously. "It's often infested with Nargles."

She turned to deposit her bag in one of the chairs at the side of the room.

"That's Luna," Potter said, "Luna Lovegood, if you haven't met her before. She's a bit odd, but really nice."

"And nargles are…?"

"No idea," he admitted with a slight laugh. "Like I said, she's a bit odd."

The door opened again and three very breathless, very cold girls entered. Kaelix recognized them from the Gryffindor quidditch team.

"Well," the tallest of them said dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into the corner, "we've finally replaced you."

"Replaced me?" said Potter blankly.

"You, and Fred, and George," she said impatiently. "We've got a new Seeker!"

"Who?" he asked quickly.

"Ginny Weasley," one of the other girls offered.

Potter gaped at her.

"Yeah, I know," the first girl said, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, "but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course," she said, throwing him a very dirty look, "but since we _can't_ have you…"

Potter clenched his jaw. "And what about the Beaters?" he asked, the effort to keep his voice even was evident.

"Andrew Kirke," the other girl offered without much enthusiasm, "and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up…"

Hermione, Neville, and Weasley showed up and put an end to the depressing topic of the second string quidditch team. Hermione smiled warmly at Kaelix and welcomed her. Then more and more filed in and within five minutes the room was full enough that Kaelix began questioning her decision to join in on the party. The noise level was rising and she felt the smallest prick of a headache starting.

"Okay," Potter said, drawing everyone's attention. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point in starting anything new right before a three-week break-"

"We're not doing anything new?" said a disgruntled Hufflepuff who's name escaped Kaelix, it might have been Eric. His whisper was loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."

"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," said Fred loudly.

Several people sniggered but maybe-Eric caught sight of Kaelix and his expression turned sour.

"What's she doing here?" he snapped.

Before everyone had even figured out who maybe-Eric was talking about, Potter snapped back, "She's here for defense lessons, same as you."

"I didn't realize we were letting any Slytherins join us," he remarked, his glare still fixed on her.

Oh hell, not this all over again. She glared right back, a retort forming on her lips.

"Last I checked, she's a Gryffindor," Potter said before she got a word out.

"Then why has she been cozying up to Malfoy and his cronies again?" maybe-Eric asked.

More like maybe-Asshole.

Kaelix didn't miss the bit of surprise that rippled across Potter's face, but he didn't miss a beat before levelling his gaze with the other boy.

"She's signed the parchment just like everyone else, if you have that much of a problem with her being here then you don't have to stay," he said, barely containing the edge in his voice.

Weasley certainly looked like he disagreed as he was giving her that special scowl of disapproval that he reserved just for her. He, however, didn't protest.

"So, unless anyone else has any other petty squabbles they need to get out, let's get started. Pair off," he ordered. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for twenty minutes or so, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again." Then he added rather gruffly to just the two of them, "Neville, you can partner with Williams tonight, I'll just watch."

He moved off to the other side of the room as everyone paired up. The room was immediately filled with intermediate cries of 'Impedimenta!'

"Sorry you're stuck with me," Neville said.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," she said. "I've no idea how to do the Impediment Jinx."

"Oh, I can show you," he said eagerly. "I've gotten pretty decent at it recently."

Neville showed her the slicing wand movement several times, enthusiastically explaining all the different ways he'd managed to do it wrong in the past, and the rather unfortunate consequences that Potter had suffered as a result. "It has to be sharp, like this," he insisted, demonstrating the single movement again, "or it won't work. Don't worry, it just freezes you for a bit but it doesn't hurt. Well, most of the time… I'll go first, ready?"

She nodded, "Do your worst."

They faced off, Neville bit his lip in concentration.

He sliced his wand sharply and cried, " _Impedimenta!"_

Being frozen was a strange sensation. She wasn't sure how she was able to breath when she couldn't even blink. Neville was apologizing, despite having done exactly what he was supposed to have done, but she couldn't reply. Half of the other students were in various states of frozen, waiting for the jinx to wear off, and the other half were patting themselves on the back over their successful execution of the jinx. Several moments later Kaelix's mobility finally returned and she nearly stumbled before catching herself, her legs having stopped up while she was frozen.

"Sorry I forgot to mention that," Neville said in a rush. "Something about being frozen tricks your muscles a bit."

"That was quite good, I think," she said.

"Really?" he asked.

"This is my first time being frozen, mind you, but I couldn't move, which seems to be the goal," she said.

He was grinning broadly. "You want to have a go? I've been frozen loads of times."

Kaelix nodded and tightened the grip on her wand. "Like this, right?" She sliced the tip through the air.

Neville nodded in the affirmative.

She moved, " _Impedimenta!"_

A turquoise light fizzled from the tip of her wand and practically disappeared before it even reached Neville. Kaelix frowned as Neville blinked at her, clearly not frozen.

" _Impedimenta!"_ she tried again.

The turquoise light shot out of her wand faster this time but dissipated as it struck Neville, who again continued to blink at her. She heard a snigger to her left and refused to look, she knew exactly who it was and refused to give him the satisfaction of her attention or acknowledgement. But after a few more feeble attempts she was starting to feel a bit foolish for showing up in the first place. The entire point of showing up was to learn how to defend herself, but this was not what she had in mind. Something was off. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe Hogsmeade wasn't a fluke, maybe there was some other reason she couldn't draw on her magic to defend herself, maybe-

"You're waving your wand too far."

She nearly jumped as his voice drew her back from the edge of the spiral she'd been teetering on. She hadn't noticed Potter watching her, or approaching.

Her teeth clenched, "I'm barely waving it at all."

"You're waving it clear across your chest. Impedimenta is a short, sharp, slice. Here-" He raised his own wand and then cut it sharply in a very tight movement.

Her scowl deepened, "That's what I was doing."

His expression was infuriatingly neutral when he said, "No you weren't. Try again."

She had critically miscalculated the level of irritation she would feel having Potter instruct her on proper spellwork. Doing her best to swallow her pride, she faced Neville and tried to ignore discomfort buzzing just beneath her skin. She pulled and pooled more magic within her this time, aggressively drawing it in. With a sharp, short, irritated slice, she tried once more.

" _Impedimenta!"_

This time the jet of light shot out of her wand and hit Neville squarely in the chest and he froze in a flinch. Kaelix smiled at her success.

"Better?" she asked.

Potter was rubbing his temple. "A bit."

"A bit? He's completely frozen this time, just like everyone else has done," she said. "A bit? You're just being- What?"

She followed Potter's gaze to her hands and immediately stuffed them into her pockets. Her ears and cheeks burned. How could she have been such an idiot? How could she forget this particular little side effect that only she seemed to suffer from.

"I told you, you were waving your wand too far," he said. Then added quietly, "Maybe let Neville have a few more tries, once he unfreezes that is."

Kaelix nodded silently, desperately hoping that no one else had seen what Potter had just seen. He moved off to assist some of the other students. She watched him go and cursed herself for ever thinking it was a good idea to come. Across the room there was a Ravenclaw girl staring, but she quickly averted her eyes when Kaelix caught her gaze. Was it her imagination or had there been daggers in that girl's eyes?

When she turned back to Neville, she found that he'd unfrozen and was eager to have another go at the jinx himself. A few minutes later Potter instructed them to switch to Stunning. They didn't have the space for everyone to practice at once, so half the group observed while the other half practiced, and then they swapped over.

Kaelix didn't give her best effort for the rest of the evening, she wasn't keen on anymore glowing happening with this many people around. Especially with the way that annoying Hufflepuff was still eyeing her, and the very much not imagined daggers the Ravenclaw girl was occasionally throwing her way. At the end of the hour when Potter called it a night, he mentioned they might give patronuses a try after the holidays, which was met with murmurs of excitement. Kaelix didn't share the feeling, instead she took off as quickly as she could, feeling decidedly worse than she had when she'd shown up and certain that she wouldn't be returning after the holiday. She was sure it was only a matter of time before Potter caught up to her to ask about what he'd seen this evening, and she wasn't sure what she would tell him.

But Potter didn't catch up to her that evening, or for the rest of the week. The morning after that final DA meeting, he and the entire Weasley family had been whisked away from the castle because something had happened to Arthur Weasley. Seemed an odd reason for Potter to disappear but Kaelix wasn't disappointed to be able to avoid him so easily. Professor McGonagall had pulled both Kaelix and Hermione aside to assure them that Mr. Weasley was fine and that someone named Tonks would be escorting the two of them "home" for the holiday break on Friday afternoon.

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around most of the students had already left for the break and the castle corridors were virtually empty.

"I still don't understand why you're not staying at the castle like you did third year," Malfoy said as they made their way to the entrance hall.

She rolled her eyes half heartedly. "I'd almost rather stay here, but honestly, I don't mind the idea of getting away from Umbridge for a few weeks."

He murmured agreement with distant eyes.

"Besides, Nott and Zabini have already left and you're heading out later this evening."

He made another grunt of agreement.

She glanced sideways at him. "Is everything okay? You seem off today."

They cleared the last steps and he didn't answer. His expression was set but he wasn't really looking at anything in particular, he was somewhere else.

"Hey." She bumped his elbow with her own.

"What? Yeah, no, I'm… What?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. There was a familiar edge to his voice, an edge that she didn't like. She'd noticed it a handful of times before but it seemed sharper now. It reminded her of something, she couldn't quite place it but it drove a wedge of discomfort between her shoulder blades.

"What?" He leaned back slightly.

"You tell me. Is something wrong?" she asked.

He shrugged it off with a grimace. "I think lunch just isn't sitting well. Looks like your escort is here," he gestured over her shoulder.

She glanced over to see a very gregarious looking woman with bubblegum pink hair giving Hermione an enthusiastic hug. A small groan escaped her lips.

"Have fun with that," Malfoy said with a smirk. "I guess I'll see you after break."

She grabbed the end of her trunk. "Yeah, have a good break, I'll see you."

"Send me an owl if you get bored," he said around a smirk.

She glanced back with a smile. "What, can't make it three weeks without me?"

A ripple of something crossed his features but it was gone before she could decide what it had been.

"Let's not find out," he called after her, the smirk back in place.

She was still smiling when she shook her head and turned away, but still couldn't shake the discomfort that had settled on her shoulders.

"You must be Remus' girl?"

Kaelix choked. "What?"

"He tutored you when he was a professor here, didn't he? I don't think I've ever seen him as upset as he was when he got to heaaa-ome, when he got _home_ , and found you not there." She casually waved her wand and both their trunks levitated behind them. "Of course, he would never actually kill Snuffles, but severely maiming is never off the table. And honestly, who hasn't wanted to severely maim Snuffles at least once since meeting him?"

Kaelix smiled, "I know I've wanted to severely maim him at least once per conversation."

She grinned then stuck out her hand. "Wotcher, I'm Tonks and I'll be your escort for the evening." She did a sort of flourished half bow that reminded Kaelix of a circus performer. "I suppose it's still afternoon, but that doesn't sound as exciting, ' _I'll be your escort for the afternoon'_ that's just lame. Anyway, it's nice to finally meet."

Kaelix took her hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Well, shall we?" she gestured toward the great oak doors. "Our gracious holiday host awaits and I'm afraid if we leave him alone too long he might burn the house down or something equally as terrible and wholly selfish."

Kaelix decided that she liked Tonks.

She and Hermione followed their escort out toward the train platform. Tonks was talking almost the entire trek across the castle grounds but the wind was blowing so much that they hardly heard a word of it. Kaelix occasionally caught individual words like 'Ministry', 'decor', or something about trains running late and just when she thought she had some idea of what Tonks might have been talking about, she swore she heard 'incestuous rat' and it added an entire slew of possibilities.

Once they reached the platform, the Knight Bus arrived the instant that Tonks flung her wand arm out from the train platform. It was a dark purple triple decker bus, which after night fall would be hard to spot in the dark. The three of them clamoured onto the bus and a wave of relief washed over Kaelix as it sheltered them from the wind. It was almost eerily quiet and Kaelix guessed there was some sort of magical sound buffer in addition to the physical.

"Hi Ernie!" Tonks greeted the driver while simultaneously maneuvering their trunks to the back of the bus. "No Stan today?"

"He's not feeling well, I'm afraid. Going solo today!" Ernie replied loudly.

Kaelix and Hermione followed their trunks to the back of the bus while Tonks chatted with Ernie while a few other students filed onto the bus. A minute or two later Tonks was hurrying to catch up with them, concern lining her features.

"You don't get motion sickness, do you?" she asked.

"Why-"

It became painfully apparent why Tonks was asking an instant later when a loud bang sounded and threw everyone in the bus toward the back. Tonks slammed into the seat beside Kaelix with a thud. The Knight Bus was more akin to a rollercoaster than an actual bus and even with the sharp pain radiating from the back of her head, she could still hear the incoherent chattering of the driver as he swerved around and between the plethora of muggle traffic.

"Sorry," Tonks said. "Forgot you might not know what to expect. You alright? Please be alright, forget severely maim, Remus will kill me."

Kaelix rubbed the tender spot on the back of her head. "Don't worry, I won't tell if you don't."

"I knew I'd like you," Tonks said with a grin.

"Wait, did your hair just change?" Kaelix asked, blinking rapidly as she doubted her own eyes.

"Oh, yeah, it does that on it's own sometimes. One second-" she looked as if she was pondering something for a moment and then her hair shifted to a bright teal color.

"How-"

"Tonks is a metamorphmagus," Hermione offered. "She can change her appearance at will but certain traits can change with emotion too."

"Is that something you can learn?" Kaelix asked.

"Unfortunately, no. But if you want to change up your hair I'd be happy to help the old fashion way." She mimicked scissors with her fingers.

"I'll definitely consider it," Kaelix said.

It hardly seemed long enough to make the trip to London when the Knight Bus was stopping just as abruptly as it had started.

"Grimmauld Place!" Ernie announced.

Tonks once again levitated their trunks off the bus, thanked Ernie, and then waited for the bus to set off again before leading them up the stairs to Number Twelve. Kaelix wasn't sure what to expect since her only other time at Grimmauld had been essentially a solo stay. Whether or not the entire pack of Weasley's make this more or less bearable was still up for debate.

Just inside the entry, Tonks waved her wand again and their trunks disappeared. "Your trunks are up in your rooms," she whispered. "Smells like we're just in time for dinner."

The three of them entered the kitchen and sure enough, Molly was in the midst of cooking an entire feast, though it didn't appear to be ready just yet. Kaelix's stomach growled and she wished she'd eaten a bit more at lunch. Black was looking on bitterly as Molly cooked, firewhiskey in hand.

"Oh Tonks, you're just in time. Hermione, Kaelix, Ron and the others are in the other room. We'll have dinner ready in a bit," Molly said.

"You're looking marginally better than the last time I saw you," Black said, taking another swig of the half empty bottle.

"You're looking just as horrible," she checked a watch that didn't exist on her wrist, "isn't it a bit early for that, even for you?"

He smirked and raised his bottle. "It's a holiday, dear, just getting into the spirit of things."

"I was wondering if you'd be just as unpleasant with everyone else as you were with me. I guess now I have my answer," she said.

"Sirius, were you rude to Kaelix? I told you not to be rude," Tonks said.

"I was my usual charming self," he said with a smirk.

"Damn it, Sirius, that means you were an ass," she said.

She tipped a platter off the edge of the table, flailed, and caught everything with a spell before it hit the ground. Molly gave a sharp look of disapproval with tight lips but she didn't say anything. The kitchen door swung open. Kaelix glanced over but quickly averted her gaze as her stomach dropped.

"Remus!" Tonks said loudly. "I thought you weren't coming by until next week?"

"Change of plans," he said. "Nice to see you again."

Kaelix was now desperately wishing she had ducked out of the kitchen and sequestered herself in her room again. The room was suddenly significantly smaller than it was about twenty seconds ago and she could feel Black eyeing her. She and Remus hadn't exactly left things on good terms two months ago when they'd last spoken. The thought of facing him now, after two months of nothing but silence and distance between them, their last words echoing over the expanse, it was overwhelming. And she hadn't really realized how overwhelming it would be until this moment.

"Kaelix, can I have a word with you before dinner?" he asked.

No, no, no, absolutely not-

"Sure."

She cursed herself. Why was it so hard to say no? She followed him out of the kitchen and into a study hidden behind the main stairs. There was an elaborate desk and matching chair that looked grudgingly uncomfortable, as well as a set of matching chairs and a chaise across the room. Though most of it was dark and lifeless, which matched Black's personality, it still didn't really seem to suit him.

"I hope your classes have been going well." He stood across the room near the window, his demeanor was stiff, so very far from the ease that used to exist between them.

She shrugged and leaned against the desk. "As well as could be expected."

He nodded. "That's good."

A long moment of silence passed between them. It was unsettling, how uncomfortable they could be now when there was a time when he was her favorite company. She shut down the memories of their old lessons before they took over. There was no going back to that and there was nothing useful about wishing they could.

She drew her arms across her chest. "Was that all?"

"No, I-" he hesitated. "I wanted to let you know that I've told Sirius."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._ The holiday break had just gotten a lot more complicated, all because Remus couldn't keep his big mouth shut. He knew she didn't want this and he'd done it anyway.

"I see."

"I know that's not what you wanted but he deserves to know, and I figured it would just be easier, coming from me," he said.

She scoffed. "Sure."

He waited for her to continue but she didn't. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Does it matter? Cause it really seems like it doesn't matter," she said.

He was nodding but his expression made it seem insincere. "Alright then. You should also know that we believe it was Lucius Malfoy that gave the Ministry the anonymous tip that they used to send you to Azkaban."

The name moved slowly through her brain, the first half disorientingly unfamiliar but the second half…

"Malfoy. As in?"

"As in Draco Malfoy's father, yes," he said, entirely too patronizingly. "It would probably be best for you to stay away from him from now on. He's not on our side."

She blinked slowly, trying her best to contain the visceral reaction that was coursing through her at those words. He had some nerve; acting just like Potter, a bloody teenager.

"And we know this... how, exactly?" she asked.

"The Malfoys aligned themselves with Voldemort during the first war, we have every reason to believe that they're still-"

"No," she said sharply. "I meant how do you know that Malfoy's father had anything to do with this?"

"We have contacts in the Ministry, they've heard rumors. And Lucius had a meeting with Fudge just before they took you."

"Rumors and coincidences?" she pushed off the desk and walked around behind it. "That's a bit thin, isn't it?"

"Not as thin as you might think, we're almost certain it was him. And the only way that he would have known anything about you, would be if Draco told him."

She worked her jaw. It couldn't be true. It wasn't. Remus was wrong. They were all wrong. "Almost certain isn't one-hundred percent. Even if his father did somehow sell me out, that doesn't mean that Malfoy helped him do it."

"Please, Kaelix," he rubbed his brow, "just stay away from him. Just stay away from that entire house."

"Is that a suggestion or an order?"

"Does it make a difference?" he cut across the room.

"That depends, are you planning on having someone enforce it?"

He stared at her hard. "Don't you understand that it's not safe right now? Harry saw Lucius with Voldemort last summer, they're still loyal to him. We can't trust any of-"

She cut him off with a skeptical look. "Potter has never had a conversation with Malfoy that extended beyond who's got the faster broom, so forgive me if I don't give a damn what he saw. Who said Malfoy agrees with his parents? Has anyone stopped to consider that?"

"Just because you think he's your friend, doesn't make him a good person. Have you stopped to consider that he may be manipulating you?"

She wanted to scream. She'd only spent the past year and a half thinking their entire friendship was a joke, she wasn't about to let Remus' paranoid, over protective father complex get under her skin again.

"You don't know anything about who he is." She leaned into the words. "None of you do. You were ready and willing to befriend Black and help him escape his shit family but Malfoy doesn't get the same chance."

He shook his head. "It's not the same."

"How is it not the same?" she asked incredulously. "Black came from a pureblood, Voldy-loving family and you were more than willing to believe in him, to give him a chance. How do you just decide that Malfoy shouldn't get that same chance? How do you decide that without ever having said more than four words to him?"

His expression was tight. "Sirius wasn't sorted into Slytherin like the rest of his family. He had already walked away from their beliefs by the time he befriended James and me."

"So Malfoy gets written off because he was sorted into Slytherin?" She gesticulated sharply. "I guess it's a good thing I wasn't sorted there. I'd still be in Azkaban right now."

He was ready with another retort but closed his mouth for a beat before changing directions. "That's not fair. It's not just about a Slytherin, it's about his family, it's about what he's been raised to believe. And the fact that he's shown no sign of deviating from it."

"How would you know, how would any of you know? None of you are paying attention."

"It's too late, Kaelix, he-"

"That's the deadline then? He's a lost cause because he didn't have it all figured out by the time he was eleven?"

"That's not what I said-"

"How can you of all people just write someone off like that? I would have thought if anyone in this godsforsaken house would have ignored labels and prejudices, it would have been you."

"I didn't choose to be a werewolf," he snapped. "The Malfoys _chose_ to align themselves with Voldemort, they _chose_ to become death eaters."

She was shaking her head before he finished. "No. _His parents_ chose to become death eaters, not him. Black made a choice. Pettigrew made a choice. We all make choices. He should be given the same opportunity as anyone else to make his own. But if you write him off, if he thinks that sticking with his family is his _only_ chance to survive this because it's them or nothing, then that's not his choice anymore. That's on you and anyone else who chose not to help him when you damn well could have."

"You don't get to hold us responsible for the decisions that he's made," he said.

" _He's only fifteen years old_ ," she pressed. "What irredeemable decisions has he made?"

"The decision to follow his parents, to believe that he's better than the rest of us just because of his blood. You can't save people like that."

"What's the point of any of this, then?" She gestured to the rest of the house. "What are any of you even doing here if you're not trying to help people?"

"This conversation is over," he said, moving toward the door.

"Yeah," she said, fighting the urge to kick the desk. "Figures you would give up that easily."

Her comment landed precisely where she'd wanted it to, he rounded on her. "You expect me to stand here and argue with you over the morality of abandoning people who wouldn't hesitate to kill us if they had the opportunity?"

She stood her ground, despite wanting to back up a step. "I expect you to at least listen to me and not treat me like I'm a complete idiot. I'm not defending murderers, I'm defending a fifteen year old boy."

"I'm not-"

"Just stop," she snapped. "You already proved that you don't give a damn what I think when you made the asshole decision to tell Black that he's my father."

His jaw clenched. "I thought it would be easier if-"

"Easier for _who?_ "

Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes and she cursed herself for it. She didn't want this, why had it come to _this?_

His expression hardened. "What's really the matter? This is more than just disagreeing over Malfoy, you've been pushing me away ever since you got back."

"I've been pushing you away?" she asked incredulously. "I've-" She scoffed, half laughing at the absurdity of it.

"You said you didn't hate me anymore but frankly your attitude is saying the opposite." He swallowed. "I just want to know why?"

She was shaking her head and biting her bottom lip. This was definitely not a conversation she'd been prepared to have this evening, but it was the one she found herself in the middle of. And she didn't know if what she was about to say was fair, all things considered, but she didn't have time to think it through before it spilled out.

"I sat alone in this house for three weeks with no one but a morose drunk, and when you finally showed up, you yelled at me. And now you've pawned me off on Black again, at the first chance you got. If you were tired of dealing with me, then you could have just said so."

She had to hand it to him, he looked surprised by her words and even a little ashamed of himself. His left hand fidgeted at his side, his gaze dropped.

"You still can't say it, can you?" she said.

His eyes snapped up to hers again. His jaw was set.

" _Anything_ would have been better than silence."

She pushed past him and made her way up the stairs. She clenched her fists to stave off the trembling in her hands. A jolt of adrenaline shot through her when she saw someone on the landing but it quickly receded when she realized it was just Potter. Then she realized that he was casually leaning against the banister, directly above the room where she'd just been having it out with Remus. The blood drained from her face. She tried her best to collect her frayed nerves and just keep walking. Then she saw the trunk behind him and stopped in her tracks. Because after that, after everything, if Potter was just going to skive off and run away maybe she would too.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

"Don't see how that's any of your business," he said.

She scoffed. "Right." The stair creaked beneath her as she started up them again.

"Why haven't you told Sirius that he's your father?"

The impact of the question nearly put her off balance. She tightened her grip on the banister as her stomach dropped all the way to the ground floor.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me. Don't play dumb, I know you know what I'm talking about." He was still leaning against the banister with his hands in his pockets, itching for a fight.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Sirius being your fath-"

Before he finished the word she was across the landing, grabbing his sweater and dragging him into the next room. The door slammed unceremoniously behind them.

"Where did you hear that?" she demanded.

He took his time straightening his sweater and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before answering her. "I heard Remus talking to Sirius about it yesterday."

"Back to your old eavesdropping habits again? Will you ever learn to mind your own damn business?" she hissed.

"Sirius is my Godfather, that makes it my business. And eavesdropping is the only way I can find out about anything that's going on because no one will tell me any of it," he snapped.

"Maybe if you'd stop acting like a petulant child they'd think you were capable of handling it. You should have stopped listening as soon as you realized that you and your big ego weren't their topic of conversation. You had no right to listen to that."

"I had every right to know that you're my Godfather's daughter."

"How the hell do you figure that? The only people with a right to know would be Black, myself, and-" she counted off two fingers and held them up, "-oh look, that's the end of the list."

"Remus seemed to know all about it, he was the one who ended up telling Sirius after all. Instead of you."

They were exhausting. Both of them. Infuriatingly exhausting.

"Remus being in the middle of this doesn't justify you inserting yourself there as well, you ass."

"Why didn't you just tell him yourself that night in the Shrieking Shack? And why do you seem so pissed at the fact that Remus did?"

"You're a bigger idiot than I thought if you think I'm going to tell you that right now. If you tell anyone about this, I swear I will-"

A hard hammering knock startled Kaelix and she swore.

"Harry, are you in there?" It was Hermione. "I've searched the rest of the house and you left your trunk out here so I know you're in there."

"We're not done," Kaelix said quietly.

"Of course not," he said.

Kaelix pulled open the door and Hermione looked surprised to find the both of them, just as Kaelix was surprised to see not only Weasley behind her but also his younger sister, Ginny, as well.

"Oh, I didn't- er- are we interrupting something?" she asked.

"It's fine. What are you doing here?" Potter asked, rather abrasively. Then added, "I thought you were skiing?"

Hermione shrugged and Kaelix stepped back so the three of them could file into the room. Weasley looked more perturbed than usual and wasn't looking at Potter, but Ginny seemed quite unabashed.

"I decided to stay here for Christmas, so I told mum and dad that everyone in our year who is serious about exams is staying at Hogwarts to study for the OWLs. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway," she said briskly, "you want to explain why your trunk is on the landing instead of in your bedroom where it should be?"

"No," he said stiffly.

"Fine," she said impatiently. "I'm sure it's the same reason you've been hiding since you got back from St. Mungo's yesterday?"

Potter didn't answer, just silently seethed.

Hermione heaved a sigh. "Look, Harry, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears-"

"Yeah," he growled. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it."

Kaelix couldn't contain the scoff.

"What now?" he snapped.

"Did you finally overhear something that you didn't like?" she asked. "That's why your trunk is packed and ready to go, because of a little idle gossip?"

"I don't think intermittent possession falls under idle gossip."

"You don't even know if you were actually possessed," Ginny inserted.

"And talking to you lot is supposed to make that better how?"

"I figured I could lend some insight, seeing as I actually have been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I know what it feels like," she said evenly.

There was a fraction of a moment where Kaelix was processing what Ginny had said and then Potter wheeled around.

"I forgot," he said.

"Lucky you," she said coolly. "Have you forgotten anything else lately? Are there any big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

They waited while Potter racked his brain. "No."

"Can't believe you're passing up an excellent explanation for why you've been more of an ass than normal recently," Kaelix said.

"You haven't exactly been a ray of sunshine since you got back either," he shot at her.

"I was in Azkaban for eighteen months and Umbridge is pretty keen on sending me straight back there. You're yelling at all of your friends and threatening to run away because the adults aren't telling you grown up things. It's hardly the same."

"I'm upset because nobody believes that Voldemort has really returned and the darkest wizard in history might be possessing me and having me attack my friends' parents. I think that's about as upsetting as Azkaban," he said.

Kaelix opened her mouth to retort but Hermione cut her off.

"Did you ever figure out why?" she asked, her voice perfectly pleasant. "Why Umbridge and the Ministry want you back in Azkaban, that is?"

"No," she responded, and without considering any ramifications for her next words, she continued, "Dumbledore has a working theory but I'm not convinced."

"When did you talk to Dumbledore?" Potter asked.

"Last weekend," she said. "Why does it matter?"

"What else did he tell you?" Potter demanded.

Kaelix considered him before answering. He still seemed to be spoiling for a fight but there was something else at play. His irritation had just ticked up a notch.

"Technically he told me not to tell anyone else about the conversation," she said.

Potter scoffed. "You do like to keep your secrets."

She threw daggers at him, but before she could snap back-

"A working theory is better than we came up with," Hermione said. "We hit a dead end shortly after they took you."

Kaelix did a double take. "You what?"

"We hit a dead end. We didn't have much to go on and we exhausted all our leads. Short of searching every single book in the Hogwarts library, we did everything we could think of, but we couldn't figure out why they took you."

Kaelix just stared at her. They had tried to figure out why the Ministry arrested her. She hadn't even considered the fact that they might have tried to do that. She remembered them hunched over the back table in the library that day during third year, scouring the archives for anything that might help Hagrid win his appeal with Buckbeak. But Hagrid was their friend. The sentiment behind their efforts caught her off guard.

"What do you mean you exhausted all your leads?" she asked.

"Why are you suddenly so interested in participating?" Weasley asked. "You've hardly seemed interested in anything since you got back."

She eyed him. He clearly still preferred things that way. The back of her left hand suddenly itched at the memory of Umbridge's unique detention, she flexed it to shake off the echo of pain.

"I guess I finally got tired of playing defense."

"We started with that book you left but that went nowhere very fast. It's blank," Hermione continued.

"Blank? That has to be a mistake. Did you try-"

"We tried everything we could think of to see if there was hidden writing but no luck. Then we tried following up with the book dealer, but unfortunately by the time we did, he'd turned up dead."

"Dead? How? Let me guess…"

"An accident," she and Hermione said simultaneously.

"How did you know?" Ginny asked.

"Let's just say it's not the first conveniently timed accidental death that I've read about recently," Kaelix said.

Hermione nodded. "It's certainly suspicious. After that, the most we really had to go on was that Michael O'Connor name you asked me about and the Wegenstehl. But we couldn't find anything in the Hogwarts library about either of those. Eventually, with everything else going on, we left it to Dumbledore. He was livid after they took you, I don't know that I've ever seen him that angry before."

"He was angrier last year, when Crouch tried to kill me," Potter said with an edge.

Kaelix ran a hand through her hair, massaging her head. "Pissing people off last year as well?"

"Yeah, Voldemort's followers tend to get that way when I don't turn up dead, especially after Voldemort himself tried to do it." He absently popped a few knuckles.

"Regardless," Hermione said over both of them. "Dumbledore must have figured out why they took you in the first place if he was able to get you out. You said he had a working theory?"

"Why are you interested in this? Why does it matter to you?" Kaelix asked, still not quite able to reconcile their sudden concern.

"The Ministry is working hard to discredit Harry and Dumbledore right now, if they're against us and they're against you then we need to know if it's connected," Hermione explained.

Kaelix considered her words. She was hardly convinced that there could be any connection between Voldemort and the reason the Ministry wanted her in prison. But maybe there was some larger plot here, maybe it would be good to have a few more people helping her figure it out. It seemed reckless to tell them everything when she didn't know which parts had landed her in prison, but in a way it was reckless not to. There would be no going back from this, but the idea that they might help her outsmart Umbridge was tempting.

She sighed. "I want you to know that this goes against every instinct I have and the only reason I'm even considering it is because even with the two of you bringing her down," she said pointedly toward Potter and Weasley, "Hermione is still the smartest witch in this entire wizarding world." Then she added more to herself, "Please don't let me regret this, please don't let me regret this…"

"You don't have to tell us anything," Weasley said, folding his arms across his chest.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I'm definitely going to regret this… but what the hell, I've already been to prison, what's the worst that could happen? Dumbledore's theory is that the Ministry thinks I've been teaching myself how to do Wegenstehl magic. Whatever that means."

"Does Dumbledore know anything about Wegenstehl magic?" Hermione asked.

"Not much that he would admit to, but he seemed to think that the Ministry might be hiding some sort of research department or something. That Michael O'Connor fellow I asked you about last year, he was looking into the Wegenstehl, asking the Ministry about them. Then he turned up dead some months later, seemingly in a tragic accident. Sound familiar?"

Hermione exchanged a look with Potter as they both realized the implication that neither Michael O'Connor's death, or the bookshop keeper's death were actual accidents.

"So whatever Wegenstehl magic is, the Ministry is afraid of it and they don't want anyone to know about it," Hermione mused. "Seems like something Voldemort might want to know about."

"There's _something_ at the Ministry that he wants, I couldn't tell what but he was looking for something," Potter added. "Did Dumbledore say anything else during your heart to heart?" he asked.

"Not much other than an apology for lying to me," she said off hand.

"Well at least that's something," Potter said stiffly.

"Would you stop snapping at me already, it's not my fault Dumbledore's talking to me more than you. He's certainly still kept his fair share of information from me as well," Kaelix said gruffly.

"I'm more annoyed that you've started hanging out with Malfoy again. You know you can't tell him about any of this," he demanded.

"I'll tell Malfoy whatever I damn well please. Take whatever broomstick is up your arse and shove it farther."

"Why is Dumbledore talking to you instead of me? You haven't even been here, what could be so important-"

"Why don't you take that up with him, eh? Maybe if you weren't so pissy all the time, he'd feel like talking to you."

His jaw clenched. "Maybe if he took the time to tell me anything about what's going on then I wouldn't be so pissy."

"I get it, you're used to being Dumbledore's favorite. But maybe instead of sulking about it and shouting at all the rest of us, you could just shout at him directly?"

"Would you _both_ _stop_ ," Ginny shouted. "Merlin, we're not getting anywhere with the two of you bickering like this."

"He's the one who-" Kaelix started.

"We know but you're not exactly helping things," she said sharply. "Why do you put up with this?" she added to Hermione.

"Well, they're not always this bad. At one point during third year they were actually working together fairly well," Hermione said.

"Who is that man you keep meeting in Hogsmeade?" Potter asked. "Maybe he has something to do with you being sent to Azkaban."

Kaelix blinked at the sudden change of topic and Hermione and Ginny both looked to her for an answer. "He never told me his name so I just call him the Inn Man. Not terribly creative, I know. But I don't think he has anything to do with it. He wants me to trust him, to help him with something."

"Help him with what?" Weasley grunted, a fraction of his disapproval was waning.

She shrugged. "Didn't say. Wanted me to be a true believer before he revealed anything compromising. He did claim he could have kept me out of Azkaban if I'd trusted him before it was too late but I'm not convinced."

"He certainly seemed to think he knew a lot about you when you last spoke." Potter said.

She tracked back to that first day in Hogsmeade, it seemed like ages ago.

"Is there a question there or were you just reminding everyone in the room that you followed me through Hogsmeade my first day back?" she said.

To his credit, Potter looked a bit remorseful.

Kaelix shook her head. "He knew some things for sure, but I don't think he knew as much as he tried to make it seem like he knew."

"So you don't believe what he said about Austin?" Potter asked.

"Who is Austin?" Weasley asked.

"He was my friend, a long time ago. But he's dead, Dumbledore himself confirmed it," Kaelix said dismissively.

"You don't think it's worth looking into?" Potter asked.

She shook her head again and said with an air of finality. "Austin was a muggle and he's been dead for eight years, there's nothing to look into."

Silence settled over them for a moment and for a fraction of a second her mind started to replay her conversation with Remus. Her stomach turned at the idea of him telling Black that he was her father. Hell, he'd already known when they ran into each other in the kitchen earlier. It was going to be a long three weeks.

"So… that's it then, we've hit a dead end again?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we know one thing for certain," Ginny said. "Harry wasn't possessed by Voldemort."

Potter's gaze snapped back to her. "But the dream about your dad and the snake-"

Ginny was shaking her head. "A dream isn't the same as being possessed, if you never left your bed then you couldn't have been in London."

"What if Voldemort transported me somehow, in an instant-" he started.

"I thought you couldn't Apparate or Disapparte inside Hogwarts' grounds?" Kaelix said.

"Finally!" Hermione exclaimed, "finally, someone other than me has read Hogwarts: A History. She's right, _no one_ , not even Voldemort himself, can Apparate or Disapparate into or out of Hogwarts."

"She's right, mate, you never left your bed," Weasley said.

"I suppose you're right, then," he conceded to Ginny, though he still didn't sound entirely convinced.

"Of course I am," she clipped. "We also know that the Ministry is hiding something, and that there's something at the Ministry that Voldemort wants. What are the odds that those are one in the same?"

They all exchanged a look.

"I guess we better try to figure out what it is they're hiding," Kaelix said.

There was a murmur of agreement that even Weasley joined in on, but it was quickly drowned out as Black came down the stairs, singing ' _God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs'_ at the top of his lungs. Kaelix almost smiled, she'd never experienced Black in a truly good mood before but having the house full of people had certainly lifted his spirits to new heights. But her stomach was still churning with the idea of him walking around, knowing what Remus had told him.

"We better head down to dinner," Hermione said.

Kaelix would have preferred to crawl into bed and wake up again when it was time to return to Hogwarts, but her stomach betrayed her with a very loud growl and she conceded to join the rest of them. Dinner wasn't as horrible as she had anticipated. Remus had stayed to eat with them but by the time Black, Potter, Hermione, Tonks, and nearly the entire Weasley family sat down, she had a generous buffer between them. She spent the meal laughing with Hermione and Ginny as Tonks showed them the sillier things she could transform her face into.

A few hours later when people began dropping off, Kaelix rose to duck out before she could be cornered by Remus again. But her caution was misplaced, as it was Black who met her at the kitchen door this time.

"You and I need to have a chat before you sequester yourself in that room again," he said.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

He was smiling and it looked out of place on him. Hadn't this day been long enough already?

Kaelix followed him into yet another side room, this one decorated with lavish chairs and throw pillows that were clearly meant for viewing and not comfort.

"I think I prefer you as a morose drunk," she said as she dropped into the closest one.

Had she really started this day with charms class? It seemed like a week had passed since then.

"You can't always get everything you want for Christmas," he said, dropping into the armchair across the room. "Though if we play our cards right, we just might get Remus to fulfill that particular role before the holidays are over. Odds go up if we enlist Tonks' help."

She tried not to show her discomfort but she couldn't meet his gaze and busied herself by fiddling with the tassel on the throw pillow.

"I've just had a very interesting conversation with Remus, actually," he said.

"Oh, did he finally teach you how to count past ten?" she asked.

He barked a laugh and she shifted in her seat.

"He seems to be under the impression that I'm your father."

_Well, shit_. She froze, her heartbeat was in her throat, adrenaline buzzing just beneath her skin. She swallowed hard, teetering on the edge of a cliff. _Just say it,_ she thought, _just get it over with_.

He scrutinized her and then shrugged, "It makes sense, I suppose. As soon as he said Katherine was your mother…" he scratched the edge of his jaw. "You look just like her, I don't know why I didn't see it before."

Her jaw was clamped shut. It would be so easy to end this, six little words and the cat would be out of the bag. Surely that was the better option, better than continuing this charade.

"There's just one problem though." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Remus is wrong, I'm not your father. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey all! Thank you for your patience during the long delay since the last update, I was buried under 50-pounds worth of study material for a test for my day job. I've done the first half of it so fingers crossed that I passed and can get the second half over with next year. But! until then I am freeeeeeee to work on hobbies again! Thank you for sticking around and continuing to read this story, it really does mean the world to me :) I hope you enjoyed this latest installment and I would love to know what you thought in a review/comment if you have a moment. Thanks again!


	9. Chapter 9: Of Presents and Portraits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 Recap: The band got back together and immediately started dragging Malfoy. Kaelix tried to join Dumbledore's Army but due to, uh, technical difficulties she probably won't be back. Harry and the Weasleys disappeared before Harry could ask her about the technical difficulties. Malfoy seemed off right as Kaelix was meeting Tonks to leave for the Holiday, will he make it three weeks without Kaelix? We'll see. Kaelix decides that she likes Tonks because they bond over making fun of Sirius. Remus ambushes Kaelix at Grimmauld and tells her that he told Sirius that Sirius is her father, and also tries to tell her to stay away from Malfoy because they think he and his dad had something to do with her being imprisoned. Obviously Kaelix is not happy about this because she and Malfoy just made up, they argue. Then she gets pseudo ambushed by Harry and co after having it out with Harry over him listening in on Sirius and Remus talking about her being Sirius' kid. Then they all talk about all the things, lots of snapping between parties. After dinner Sirius grabs Kaelix to have a chat and she's like ugh can't this nightmare of a day be OVER ALREADY. It's #awkward cause Sirius ~knows~ that Kaelix is his daughter and Kaelix ~knows~ that he knows and then he drops THE BOMB that he is not, in fact, her father AND he knows that she already knows that. There's a lot of knowing happening… for certain people, other people THINK they know things but really they know nothing.

"There's just one problem though." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Remus is wrong, I'm not your father. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Her fidgeting fingers fell still and a wave of relief mixed with anxiety swept over her. She met his gaze without a shred of surprise or doubt in her features, he had only confirmed what she had already figured out. What she had realized on that chilly spring day in Hogsmeade so many months ago that it felt like a lifetime. What had enraged her and ultimately paralyzed her.

"So how is it that you know the truth and he doesn't?" Black asked.

She averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly. Logically there was nothing embarrassing about this, but emotions weren't known for being logical. She shrugged. Surely Black of all people would understand, he was her father's best friend after all. She swallowed a lump that felt like a rock, scraping it's way down her throat.

He sighed. "You don't have to explain it to me but you should tell him. He deserves to know."

She couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. "He said the same thing about you. So are you going to do the same thing he did, go behind my back and tell him?"

"I will if you want me to," he offered. "But it would probably be better if it came from you."

"How?" she asked, her dry throat making her voice sound foreign to her own ears.

"What, suddenly you can't string a sentence together? Never seemed to be a problem for you before."

Her eyes snapped back to him, narrowing. "Is the sarcasm really necessary in this moment specifically?" she said through tight lips.

"Oh that's rich, coming from you. I would have thought you'd appreciate it," he said around a smirk.

She bit her lip. "He won't believe me."

Black stared at her blankly. "Why in Merlin's name wouldn't he believe you?"

"Because he doesn't want to," she snapped. Her hands rubbed nervously in her lap. "He read the same letter I did, the letter that _said_ he was my father and he didn't believe it. He thought it meant you."

A look of actual concern wrinkled his features and Kaelix swore she would kill him for it. Her heart sank. She almost wished that he'd keep joking, that he wouldn't take any of this seriously because at least that was better than confirming what she'd been avoiding for months.

"I'm sure that's not true," he said with a shake of his head. "The letter must have been ambiguous. As you said, he _thought_ it meant me but that doesn't mean that he _wanted_ it to mean me. He certainly wants to be your father more than I do, although that is a fairly low bar to clear."

She made a sour face at him but he didn't seem to notice.

"Actually, that's probably why he's been so pissy lately." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Feeling like he's been pushed aside."

"I didn't push him aside," she said through gritted teeth.

He dismissed her with a wave. "Of course not, he did it to himself. Because he thought he needed to make space for me."

"Even if you really were my father, that's still a piss poor excuse for his behavior," she said.

"Because you've been so level headed and reasonable during all of this," Black said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She leaned forward sharply, gesturing back to the kitchen. "He bailed at the first chance he got, he didn't even try-"

"He doesn't know," Black said loudly. "You're blaming him for a reaction to information that he doesn't even have."

She withdrew and refocused on her fidgeting fingers, picking at the gaudy tassels on the pillow next to her. She knew he was right, on some level it wasn't fair to be upset with Remus for not treating her the way she wanted when he didn't even have all the information. But that wasn't the core of it, not really.

Black had laced his fingers together, chin propped on his hands, elbows propped on his knees. He was scrutinizing her in a way he'd only done once or twice before. It contradicted about ninety percent of his personality and it gave her the overwhelming desire to throw something at him and run the other way. She knew precisely when he'd used that look before, when he'd deemed it necessary to set aside the jokes and have a real conversation for a moment, however brief.

"Why didn't you just tell him?" He asked gently.

She took a shuddering breath and cursed herself for getting upset about this in front of Black of all people. She couldn't answer that, physically couldn't get her mouth to form the words. Anxiety churned her stomach at the thought of voicing it, at the possibility that Black would confirm her fears.

Instead she asked, "How did you know he was wrong when he told you?"

Black considered her for a moment longer with that damnable expression before leaning back in his chair. "I knew your mother Katherine very well. Obviously there's a good reason that Remus thinks I'm your father. And because I knew her so well, I know that she never loved me the way that she loved Remus, and I never loved her the way that he did. If you're not mine, and I know you're not, then you must be his."

Kaelix hardened at his words, not entirely certain why as she asked. "If they loved each other so much, then how did she end up with you?"

"You don't have to make it sound quite so revolting," he said, cracking a smile that sent her eyes rolling. "And because Remus is an idiot."

"I'm being serious."

"I thought I was Sirius," he said with an air of mocking dramatics.

Reflexively, she grabbed the decorative pillow wedged next to her and threw it at his head, only narrowly missing.

"Those are my great grandmother's throw pillows," he said, feigning indignance.

"In that case I'm surprised you haven't burned them by now," she said.

"I've tried," he said with a frown, but didn't elaborate. "I'm sure you've come to realize that Remus can be somewhat…"

"Stubborn?"

"I was going to say pig headed-" Kaelix scoffed "-but yes. We all knew they were in love during sixth year but he refused to admit it. Even had a row with Lily over it once. He has this irritating idea that he needs to protect people from himself. Tends to think he's a burden. He kept her at arm's length the same way he has with you, refused to let her in. At first she vowed to wait him out, convinced he'd come around eventually. But he was too damn stubborn and he shut her out for too long. Eventually, instead of him relenting, she did."

"She gave up," Kaelix said bitterly.

"You think you would have done better? The harder she tried the more his refusal hurt. That kind of pain erodes even the strongest determination."

She couldn't keep the accusing tone from her voice as she asked, "And what, you were there to comfort her?"

"I think some part of me knew that she only turned to me out of loneliness and spite. A long shot bet that his jealousy would overcome his stubbornness. We both should have known better, we should have done better. But we were young. And stupid."

"You were living together. Was that out of loneliness and spite as well?"

He nodded. "I told you we were stupid. And if you need more proof of that, may I remind you, that was around the same time we had begun to suspect that Remus was the traitor." He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "It was our own damn fault, really. We'd gotten so caught up in Order business that we missed several full moons in a row. He never complained about having to go through them alone, you know, once we stopped coming..." His eyes grew distant for a moment, pulling him back through time to a distant memory, one that laced his features with regret. "Not your mother though. She didn't doubt him for a second, she was better than all of us for that. We argued over it one night and then she left. I always thought she'd gone to him and based on your existence it seems I was right."

"Why didn't she stay with him?" she asked. "Why didn't they- If she'd stayed-"

"If I had to guess," Black interjected, "I'd say she was probably pushed out the door."

"She was afraid of telling him." Her eyes stung as she voiced the thought. "That's why she wrote the letter the way she did."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Or perhaps she just wanted to soften the blow of delivering the news in person. I'm sure you'd rather write him a letter than tell him in person at this point."

She stared at the crackling fire, the undulating flames, trying to reason and logic her way out of the conflicting emotions rolling through her. "I'm not sure I want to do it at all," she admitted.

"Why not?"

"Don't you get it?" she asked. "He doesn't want to be a father."

Black barked a laugh. "Like hell he doesn't." Kaelix opened her mouth to argue but Black continued over her. "Don't you remember the way he reacted when he showed up two months ago and found out you had left the house? That wasn't just casual concern on his part. My joke about not being your father was pointed at him and the fact that he was already acting like yours."

She sunk farther into her seat. "Being an overprotective ass and being a father are different things."

"I'm fairly certain that being an overprotective ass is part of the Father Handbook actually," Black said.

"Read that one, have you?"

"I've had a great deal of free time lately," he said with a smirk. "But really, what does biology even matter? He doesn't even know he's your father but he cares about you just the same."

"It's _not_ the same though," she snapped.

"How is it any different? Because I'm fairly certain the only difference between him knowing and him not knowing, was whether or not I survived letting you wander off in the big scary world all on your own."

"The _second_ he realized that you weren't a murderer, he was ready to pass me off. You said he cares just the same but he doesn't, he couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"That's not what-"

"You said yourself that he pushed my mother away because he was a werewolf, he pushed her out the door. Last I checked, that fact hasn't changed. He's already doing the same thing to me, how would telling him change that? How can you sit there and tell me he won't push me away when that's what he's always done?"

But Black was shaking his head. "It's not the same situation."

"Isn't it though?"

He raised his hands as if to surrender. "Maybe you should be arguing with him instead of me."

She blinked for a long heartbeat and heaved an irritated sigh.

"You're his daughter, no matter how hard he tries he can't push that fact away."

She clenched her hands. "If that fact is the only reason he's sticking around and putting up with me then I'd rather just leave it. Don't you get it? I don't want him to stick around just because he feels _obligated_ to. I can't-" She sucked in a breath, willing her voice not to shake. "I'd rather him not be here at all, than be here and resent me for forcing it on him."

Black rubbed his neck and nodded vaguely. Then he looked at her with that damned expression. That look that made her wish she had another pillow to throw at him. That look that made her think she was right, and he knew it. But when he spoke, the way he said her name gave her pause.

"Kaelix, I know that voice in your head is really loud sometimes and it's very good at sounding like it knows what it's talking about. But it doesn't. Especially not after sixteen months of Azkaban's Dementors fucking with your head. I know you're afraid, and I don't blame you for that, but you're wrong. It's not that he doesn't care about you anymore, it's that he cares about you so much that it kills him. So why don't you do all three of us a favor, and just let him?"

It was simultaneously infuriating and soothing to hear Black say those words with such certainty. He saw right through the tricks her own mind was trying to play on her, the tricks she was talking herself into believing. The fortunately unfortunate truth of it, was that Black was the only one who could really understand the invisible mental scars she had. And he knew Remus too.

She pressed her fingers into her eyes, trying her best to discreetly dispose of tears that had welled up. Scrubbing her face with both hands, she groaned. "What does it say about my life that _you're_ the one giving me advice right now?"

"You know, a lesser man might be offended by that comment," he said.

"I know, that was the point." She dropped her head back against the chair and stared at the ceiling from between her fingers. "Are you going to tell him if I don't?"

"Do you want me to?"

Her hands muffled the strangled sound she emitted, halfway between a groan and caterwaul.

"Is that a yes or a no? I'm afraid I don't speak dying-cat."

"How about this?" she asked, raising a single finger before her tired mind could think better of it.

He barked a laugh at the gesture. "How about I help you tell him? It doesn't have to be right away but the longer you wait the harder it's going to get. And he might like to know he has a daughter before you're _all_ grown up."

She crossed her arms over her chest and made a sour face. "Stop being so wise and nice and _right_ about everything, I don't like not being able to argue with you. Say something I can disagree with."

"Remus is right, you shouldn't be friends with Malfoy."

"Shut up."

He laughed again. "You know, I'm not sure being the sensible one sits right with me either, I'm going to need some more whiskey."

"That's not fair," she said.

"Well, if you hadn't made me being your father sound like such a repulsive idea then I might be inclined to share it with you. Although, maybe I should share, it might give you just enough courage to tell Remus."

She stifled a yawn. "Are you done lecturing me, can I go to bed now?"

"All jokes aside, you should tell him, before it's too late," his eyes were laced with remorse that she felt in her bones. "Now I'm done."

* * *

The days leading up to Christmas were a bustle of holiday cheer that were a welcome relief compared to the day Kaelix had arrived at Grimmauld. Black was nearly unrecognizable from the bitter drunk he'd been during her prior stay, as he now seemed determined that everyone should have the best possible holiday break. He worked tirelessly over several days, cleaning and decorating, even enlisting their help. By the time they all went to bed on Christmas Eve, the house had been completely transformed. There were garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers hanging from every chandelier; magical snow glittered in heaps over the carpets; candles with red and green flames illuminated the hallways; bells strung throughout the house created a soothing chiming chorus; and the Christmas tree that Mundungus had acquired was decorated with live fairies, twinkling lights, and a dusting of snow. She would never admit it and it certainly wasn't over yet, but it occurred to her that this might be the best Christmas she'd ever had.

Kaelix woke up on Christmas morning to find a small stack of presents at the foot of her bed. Hermione had gifted her a small homework planner as well as a copy of _Beyond Brewing_ , a book that covered more complex potions and included additional tips to increase their potency. There was a lumpy package from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that contained a deep red hand-knitted sweater with a large K on the front, as well as some mince pies. There was a small, shabbily wrapped present which, judging by the tag that read _Only the best for you, Sunshine_ , must have come from Black. She let out a laugh when she opened it to find a small bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, except by the looks of it only the foul tasting ones remained.

Next she opened a package that contained a small black velvet box, trimmed with silver. When she opened the box the sight within made her breath catch. It was a delicate bracelet with green and silver beads and a snake shaped clasp. There was a note pinned to the inside of the top of the box that read ' _Now you have to write to me to say thanks. Happy Christmas, hope it's been barely tolerable. -DM'_. She grinned broadly as she clasped the gift around her left wrist and tucked the box and note away.

The last gift was from Tonks, which caught her wholly off guard, and it contained a set of books, a note, and another smaller package. The note informed her that the book was actually a joint gift from both her and Black, but that Black had insisted on not taking credit for it. Kaelix glanced at the cover of the first volume, Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts. The note continued on to say that the smaller package was another joint effort:

_Several weeks ago Remus asked me to look into something at the Ministry for him. He thought you'd had some personal items with you when they sent you away and he asked me to try to get them back._ _After a bit of digging around I was able to find this and retrieve it for you. I tried to give it to Remus so he could return it to you, but he insisted that I pass it along myself. I think he was afraid that you wouldn't accept it if it came from him, but I thought you should know. I never would have known to go looking for it if he hadn't asked me to. Happy Christmas!_

Kaelix set the note aside and picked up the small package. She knew what it contained before she opened it, the one thing her mother had left her. As she ripped the wrapping apart in her lap, the small silver chain poured out and she set eyes on the heart shaped locket that she'd never expected to see again. Memories flashed through her mind like a film reel as she ran her fingers over the pendent. The day she'd gotten it, the letter, the day she'd opened it in Hogsmeade. Her nail slid into the seam, gently prying the two pieces apart. It opened with a small _pop_. The engraving on the left was hardly less of a gut punch now than it had been the day she'd first seen it and the photo…

She looked at the two of them, whispering together and then smiling up at her. The photo rattled her to the core, screaming ' _How dare you? How could you?'_. It called her bluff in a way nothing else could, to see them both and know that while one was beyond her reach, the other was right there. But she was too much of a coward for it to matter.

"Kaelix, dear," Mrs. Weasley called as she knocked on the door.

Kaelix jumped, snapping the locket closed and somehow feeling like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "It's open."

Mrs. Weasley cracked the door and leaned over the threshold. "We'll be ready for lunch soon. And then the kids and I are going to pay Arthur a visit, you're welcome to come along if you'd like some fresh air," she said with a warm smile.

Kaelix gave a tight lipped smile of her own. "I'll be done in a few minutes. And thank you for the sweater and the pies."

"It was our pleasure, dear, our pleasure."

Mrs. Weasley backed out of the room and Kaelix pulled on some clothes, secured the locket around her neck, and ventured out to join the rest of the house.

Everyone was in good spirits, murmuring Happy Christmas to each other. The kitchen was bustling as Black and Mrs. Weasley were finishing up Christmas lunch for everyone. Even Potter seemed to be in better spirits than he had been for most of the holiday so far. Shortly after lunch, Tonks, Remus, and another man showed up to escort the group of them to visit Mr. Weasley.

Kaelix must have been eyeing the other man with apprehension plain on her face because Potter leaned over and offered, "That's Mad-Eye Moody. He was our Defense professor last year. Well, sort of."

"What do you mean 'sort of'?" she asked.

"He was supposed to be our professor, but one of Voldemort's followers impersonated him for the entire year so he could kidnap me and bring Voldemort back. It's a long story," he added hastily.

"Sounds it," she agreed. "Is he always so…" Discomfort creeped over her as she watched his one eye swivelling around in it's socket. But more discomforting than the swivelling eye was the way he was eyeing all of them, as if he didn't trust anyone in the room. "Paranoid?"

"He prefers 'vigilant'," Potter said, with absolutely no hint of a joke in his voice.

They had all dressed in muggle clothes for the trip, which looked especially out of place on the adults that she'd only ever seen in robes. There was something disorienting about the sight of Remus wearing jeans and a sweater. He looked like… well, he looked like a dad. Kaelix averted her gaze.

They all clamoured into the backseat of a car that appeared much smaller from the outside. The trip didn't take long, in no time at all they were climbing back out of the car and filing onto a sidewalk. Tonks led them around the corner and paused in front of a large, old-fashioned, red-brick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. It reminded Kaelix of the shabby little telephone box that served as the visitors entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Hidden in plain sight.

This place was quite a bit more miserable than the telephone box; the window display consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modelling fashions that were at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read: 'Closed for Refurbishment'. The Leaky Cauldron, she realized, had been another seemingly dilapidated structure in plain sight of muggles, that secretly hid the entrance to a wizard hub. Which made her wonder how many other secret wizard spots she'd walked right by without even knowing.

"Everybody ready?" Tonks called.

But Moody walked right up to a particularly dilapidated female dummy. It's false eyelashes were hanging off and it was modelling a green nylon pinafore dress. He grunted without waiting for anyone's response, his breaths fogging the glass as he spoke, "We're here to see Arthur Weasley."

If it wasn't for all the other absurdities of the wizarding world, Kaelix might have thought it was a bit strange, but after everything this didn't seem that odd at all. The dummy gave a tiny nod and beckoned with its jointed finger. Moody stepped straight through the glass and each of them followed one by one. As Kaelix passed through the glass, it felt like a sheet of cool water but when they emerged on the other side it was warm and dry.

There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where it had stood. They had entered a large, somewhat crowded area that read like a reception room. There were rows and rows of old wooden chairs, several of which were occupied by an assortment of witches and wizards. Some were casually reading Witch Weekly magazines or the Daily Prophet, while others had very clearly been on the wrong end of a bad curse. It was pleasantly festive, though not decorated nearly to the extent that Grimmauld had been. There were crystal orbs that glowed red and gold, giving the appearance of large, glowing Christmas baubles; holly hung around some of the doorways; and shining white Christmas trees, covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in the corners.

There were a few witches and wizards in lime-green robes walking up and down the rows, asking the patients questions. Kaelix gathered that they were doctors, or whatever the wizard equivalent was, each bearing an embroidered emblem of a wand crossed with a bone on their chest. Judging by the number of people waiting in the reception area, it seemed wizards were not exempt from the general rule of holiday accidents.

"Family argument, eh?" smirked the blonde witch behind the desk. "You're the third I've seen today… Spell Damage, fourth floor." She gestured to a large sign next to her desk.

As they crossed the room, Kaelix noticed a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets. The nameplate beneath the portrait was labelled: _Dilys Derwent, St. Mungo's Healer 1722-1741, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 1741-1768._

The nameplate was a smack between the eyes for Kaelix. Somehow it had only just occurred to her where she was and what opportunity had been presented to her. She knew the Inn Man was wrong about Austin being alive, but she'd be lying if she didn't acknowledge that he'd sparked some small kernel of doubt in her. Dumbledore himself had confirmed that Austin had been here, if only for a brief time. There was no harm in trying to confirm that fact, she was already here after all.

The portrait of Dilys was eyeing their group closely and when she caught Kaelix's eye she smiled knowingly, as if she could see Kaelix trying to figure out a way to ditch the rest of them. It made her uneasy and she looked away, focusing instead on a quick scan of the floor guide as they passed:

**ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS …. GROUND FLOOR**

Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.

**CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES…...… FIRST FLOOR**

Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.

**MAGICAL BUGS…...…. SECOND FLOOR**

Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofungulus, etc.

**POTION AND PLANT POISONING….…. THIRD FLOOR**

Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc.

**SPELL DAMAGE…... FOURTH FLOOR**

Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms, etc.

**VISITORS' TEA ROOM & HOSPITAL SHOP … FIFTH FLOOR**

IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH, OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOME WITCH WILL BE PLEASED TO HELP.

Nothing that even mentioned anything remotely resembling records or archives. Of course, it would never be that easy.

Their rather sizable group passed through double doors and started down a narrow corridor. Kaelix still couldn't quite shake that uneasy feeling that Dilys portrait had given her as she took in the various portraits of famous Healers that lined the corridor. More festively colored baubles illuminated their path. As they turned to climb a flight of stairs, Kaelix did a double take and nearly tripped on the bottom step. Sitting in the last portrait of the corridor, whispering to the resident of the portrait, was Dilys. She gave Kaelix a wry smile before disappearing out the edge of the portrait.

"Something caught your attention, Williams?" Moody grunted.

"What? No," she said quickly.

If Dilys' gaze was unsettling, being under Moody's magical eye was downright unnerving. Kaelix jogged up the stairs to catch up to the others as they entered the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words: 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites. Underneath was a card in a brass holder which had handwritten: Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck. Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye. Kaelix glanced over her shoulder and up the corridor as well, still feeling like someone other than Moody was following her.

Mr. Weasley was propped up in bed with the remains of his turkey dinner on a tray in his lap and a rather sheepish expression on his face. The ward was smaller than the Hogwarts hospital wing and a rather dingy sight. The only window was narrow and set high in the wall, opposite the door. It felt familiar in a way she didn't like and then she heard a scream from down the corridor and immediately realized why; it reminded her of Azkaban. She shivered and fought the overwhelming desire to retreat back into the corridor. At least here there was the warm light of the shining crystal baubles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. And there was a distinct lack of dementors.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Weasley, after everyone had greeted him and handed over their presents.

"Fine, fine," said Mr. Weasley, a little too heartily. "You-er-haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," said Mrs. Weasley suspiciously. "Why?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said airily, starting to unwrap his pile of gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry- this is absolutely wonderful!"

He'd just opened a gift containing a fuse-wire and screwdrivers. Kaelix looked between Potter and Mr. Weasley, wondering if there was some sort of joke that she wasn't aware of.

But Mrs. Weasley was not so easily satisfied with Mr. Weasley's answer. As her husband leaned over to shake Potter's hand, she peered at the bandaging under his nightshirt.

"Arthur," she said, with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need to be changed until tomorrow?"

"What?" Mr. Weasley tried to dodge, looking a bit frightened and pulling his bed covers higher up on his chest as if she hadn't already seen. "No, no-it's nothing, Molly-it's-I-"

He deflated beneath her withering stare.

"Well-now don't get upset, Molly, but Agustus Pye had an idea… he's a Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in… uh… complementary medicine… I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies… well, they're called stitches. Molly, and they work very well on-on Muggle wounds-"

Mrs. Weasley emitted an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. None of them, except Mrs. Weasely, missed the not so subtle way Remus stepped back and strolled over to the adjacent patient's bed. Bill muttered something about getting a cup of tea, and the twins leapt up to accompany him, grinning. Even if they hadn't all started dropping like flies, Kaelix would have known it was time to make a quick exit. The tone in Mrs. Weasley's voice when she continued was ice.

"Do you mean to tell me," she started, her voice growing louder with every word, oblivious of her fellow visitors scurrying for cover, "that you've been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

"Not messing about, Molly, dear," he said, imploringly, "it was just-just something Pye and I thought we'd try-only, most unfortunately-well, with these particular kinds of wounds-it doesn't seem to be working as well as we'd hoped-"

"Meaning?"

"Well… well, I don't know whether you know what-what stitches are?" he asked, his voice rather thin.

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid-"

"Shall we get a cup of tea, too?" Potter said, abruptly peeling away from the bedside.

"The remaining five of them nearly sprinted for the door. As it swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs. Weasley shriek, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

"Typical Dad," said Ginny, shaking her head as they set off up the corridor. "Stitches… what was he thinking?"

"Well, he's right, they do work well on non-magical wounds," said Hermione.

"I gather it wasn't a muggle wound though?" Kaelix asked.

"Snake bite," Ginny offered.

"They would still work just fine but something in the snake's venom must be dissolving them or something," said Hermione.

"Does anyone actually know where the tea room is?" Potter asked.

"Fifth floor," Kaelix said.

As they made their way down the corridor, she wondered if she should take the opportunity to slip away while they were down to just the five of them and no adults. But she settled for sticking with the group for now, as long as they were venturing elsewhere in the hospital she could keep her eyes peeling for any signs of anything that remotely resembled a records room. They ascended a rickety spiral stair that took them past several more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed, a few of the portraits heckled Weasley about his freckles. Apparently they resembled a bad case of spattergroit, which he did not find nearly as amusing as the portraits did. One healer in particular was so adamant that he followed them through several other portraits to ensure Weasley knew just how gruesome his unsightly blemishes were. As tempted as she was to revel in Weasley's distress, mocking his freckles was rather rude and Kaelix bumped several of the more vocal portraits on her way by. Their grunts of protest in her wake brought a satisfied smile to her lips.

Then she caught a flash of silver ringlets in a portrait up ahead and she picked up her pace a bit. It was Dilys again, in the last portrait before the landing, she was sitting with the original occupant of this portrait, again whispering in hushed voices. She kept one eye on Kaelix as she conversed with the other portrait and Kaelix kept a questioning gaze on her. Was she following Kaelix?

"I think we've got one more floor-" Potter started.

"Blimey!" Weasley said, sounding startled.

"Oh, my," Hermione said suddenly, sounding breathless.

"Professor Lockhart?" Ginny said, wide eyed.

Potter had stopped to peer off the landing, through the small window that was set into the double doors. There was a signpost hanging from the ceiling, marking the corridor SPELL DAMAGE. A man had appeared, his nose pressed flat against the glass as he peered through the small window at them. He had wavy blond hair that looked mildly unkempt, bright blue eyes, and a broad smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth. He pushed open the double doors and moved toward them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.

"Well, hello there!" he said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Potter muttered to Ginny, who grinned.

"Er-how are you, Professor?" Weasley asked, looking a bit guilty.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" said Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Um, who is this?" Kaelix asked.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Potter supplied. "He was our Defense professor during second year."

"Another one? Wait," she paused, tallying in her head, "that's a different Defense professor every year you've been at Hogwarts. How did he end up here?"

"He-er-had a bit of an accident, lost his memory, it's kind of a long story," Potter said, exchanging an uneasy glance with Weasley.

"Seems like all your stories are long stories," she said.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she found Dilys still watching her. The expression on her face was expectant, like she was waiting for Kaelix to do something. Lockhart's smile had faded, he was staring intently at Potter.

"Is that why he thinks we want his autograph?" Kaelix asked, shifting uncomfortably as Lockhart's intense gaze flickered to her for a moment.

"No, no. He was like that before," Potter said.

"Worse, actually," muttered Hermione.

"Have we met?" Lockhart asked.

"Er… yeah, we have," said Potter. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, a few years ago, remember?"

"Teach?" Lockhart repeated, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I?" And then the smile reappeared on his face so suddenly it was rather alarming. "Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends and then nobody will be left out!"

But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice called, "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?"

A motherly-looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at the group.

"Oh, Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day, too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs!" Gilderoy told the Healer with another unsettlingly glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him," said the Healer, taking Lockhart's arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be starting to come back. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked… not that he's dangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "he's a bit of a danger to himself, bless him… doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back… it is nice of you to have come to see him."

"Er," said Weasley, gesturing uselessly at the floor above, "actually, we were just-er-"

But Hermione knocked elbows with him and the rest of "going to get a cup of tea" died in his throat. They all exchanged a look and then followed Lockhart and his Healer along the corridor.

"We don't have to stay long," Hermione whispered to a disgruntled Weasley. "It's the least we can do, considering…"

As they came to a stop in front of the Janus Thickey Ward, the Healer muttered, "Alohomora." The door swung open and she led the way inside, keeping a firm grasp on Gilderoy's arm. Just as she was passing through the door at the back of the group, Kaelix saw that familiar flash of silver ringlets again and hesitated.

"This is our long-term residents' ward," she informed them in a low voice. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement. Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself; and we've seen a real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn't speaking any language we recognize yet… Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat."

"Excuse me," Kaelix said as the Healer stepped off to the side.

"Yes, dear?"

"Could you tell me where the nearest bathroom is?"

"Certainly. If you go back down the corridor the way you came, it will be the last door on your left," she said with a warm smile.

Kaelix whispered her thanks and casually stepped back toward the door. "I'll be back in a few," she called as she ducked out before anyone could join her.

But she wasn't three steps down the corridor when she heard, "The bathroom is the other way."

She turned to see Potter leaning casually against the wall. "Right. Must have mixed up the directions."

He gestured the opposite direction. "Pretty complicated corridor."

Her face betrayed her irritation.

"I'll go with you," he offered, pushing off the wall.

"I don't need an escort to the bathroom."

"Oh, I know," he said with dismissive scoff. "I meant wherever you're planning on going while you _pretend_ you're in the bathroom."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. It only took a split second for her to make the decision and release an irritated sigh of resignation. She turned back to head in the 'wrong direction' again, keeping an eye out for that familiar flash of silver ringlets. Potter jogged to catch up to her quick clip and fell into step beside her. Hopefully the pair of them didn't look too suspicious traipsing about these corridors.

"So, where are we going?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Just a hunch."

"Well, what are we looking for?" he asked.

"The truth," she said.

She jolted to a halt as a flash of silver caught her eye, but it was only some elaborate jewelry on a donor. She resumed her search, scouring portraits on both sides of the corridor for a glimpse of that damn Healer.

"If you told me what you're looking for in these portraits we could each take a side of the corridor," he offered.

They reached an intersection and Kaelix halted again, unsure which direction to turn or if they were simply wandering aimlessly at this point. It could have just been a coincidence, that the Healer had followed them through the hospital. The portraits at Hogwarts were often found far from their home frames. But there was a nagging feeling under her skin that the portrait knew something. Was it really so much of a stretch to think she could be leading Kaelix to what she was looking for?

"Which way?" Potter asked.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Do you even know what you're looking for?"

"I know exactly what I'm looking for," she snapped defensively.

She took a few steps down each direction, checking the closest portraits for any sign of Dilys.

"Then tell me what it is so I can help," he grunted.

"Do you remember that Healer, the one from the reception area," she said.

"The welcome witch?"

"No, the _Healer_ , on the wall. The portrait. Dilys… something, I can't remember. She's been following us since we got here and I swear she wanted me to follow her somewhere," she said.

"Wait, we're following a portrait? Williams…"

"Do not use that tone with me, Potter," she said, rounding on him. "There are records somewhere in this hospital and that portrait knows where they are."

"So you were lying the other day, when you said it wasn't worth looking into what happened to Austin?" he asked.

Kaelix swallowed hard and averted her gaze. "Let's go with change of heart."

Potter shook his head. "I'm all for it, but you can't honestly believe that a random portrait knows what you're looking for _and_ that she's leading you right to it."

"Is that really such an absurd concept? I don't understand how you decided where to draw your line of what's believable and what isn't. We walked straight through a solid wall to get in here, transported by a car that was ten times bigger on the inside than the outside, coming from a house that disappears when you've walked off the steps, but you're hung up on the idea that- oh!"

She caught a glimpse of the Healer with her sly smile at the edge of one of the other portraits and saw her take off down the corridor to the right of the one they'd come from. Kaelix immediately launched after her, Potter hot on her heels.

"Maybe because there's no way that this portrait knows who you are, let alone what you're looking for?" he asked as they crossed directly through another intersection.

"The Mirror of Erised knew enough about me to know what I wanted most. The Room of Requirement gives you exactly what you need just by thinking about it. How would this really be that much of a stretch?" she said dismissively, sticking as close as she could to Dilys.

"I guess when you put it that way…" he conceded.

They followed the Healer as she wound her way through the various portraits hung throughout the corridors, eventually leading them to a tight spiral staircase that felt like the back employees only portion of the hospital. As they started down the staircase Kaelix heard muffled voices coming from below. And they were getting closer.

"Back, back, back," she ushered Potter.

"Here-"

He pulled her through the door on the landing closest to them and pressed his ear against it from the other side. Kaelix did the same and her heart skipped a beat when the voices grew louder. It wasn't as if they'd blatantly walked past any 'Restricted Access' or 'No Visitors Beyond This Point' signs, but it still felt like getting caught going through Snape's private potion ingredient stockroom. As the voices approached and paused at the other side of the double doors they were currently hiding behind, they each backed into opposite corners. The doors swung open and two Healers continued on down the hall, neither one of them seeing either of the students concealed only a few feet away. As soon as they were far enough down the corridor, Kaelix and Potter jumped up and slipped back through the doors into the stairwell.

"Merlin that was close," Potter said, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think they would have done if they'd caught us?"

"I don't want to find out," Kaelix said. "Come on, Dilys is waiting for us."

The sly eyed Healer had been casually sitting with another portrait until they rejoined her on the stairs. She set off again immediately and led them down, down, down. Kaelix was certain that they must be beneath ground level when she started to wonder if this might have been a mistake. Blindly following a portrait to the catacombs of a hospital sounded a bit too much like the start of a horror film for her liking. It was clear Potter was having similar thoughts as he started to hesitate more often, glancing back up the stairs to gauge how far they'd come. But he remained silent until they eventually came to a final, bottom landing that faced another set of double doors.

"So… do we…?" he asked.

"Of course we do, I'm not walking back up all of those stairs for nothing," Kaelix said, pushing ahead.

Beyond the double doors was another long corridor, but this corridor was entirely empty save the single door at the opposite end of the hall. Kaelix started forward.

"Wait," Potter ordered, flinging an arm out to stop her.

"What now?"

He'd taken out his wand, his narrow gaze scanning the corridor closely. After watching him take a few hesitant steps forward Kaelix rolled her eyes.

"What, do you think it's boobie trapped?" she asked impatiently.

"Wouldn't be surprised," he warned, taking another slow step forward.

"We don't have time for this. We've already been away far longer than a bathroom trip."

"You'll think that when you walk right over a hex trigger and then have to explain why you've been gone so long _and_ why you have bat wings sprouting from your ears-hey!"

She side stepped around him and jogged down the corridor, stopping to spring around at the end, arms wide in a flourish to finish the performance. "See," she called back to him with a smile of triumph, "no bat ears. Feel free to continue your funeral march though."

When she turned around to face the door she immediately deflated: there was no handle.

"Don't think this means you were right to run down here without checking first," Potter said as he trotted to catch up to her, his wand still half raised in defense. "Well, that's… unfortunate," he said, spying the lack of a doorknob.

"That's an understatement," Kaelix mumbled. She studied the intricate carved surface of the door, wondering if there might be some instructions hidden within the patterns. "How do we open a door with no handle?"

"Open sesame?" Potter offered.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," she said.

"Just try telling it what we're looking for or something."

"You want me to just tell the door that we're looking for some kind of record of a boy who may or may not have died here over eight years ago?"

"I knew you thought there was a chance he was still alive," Potter said.

Kaelix started shaking her head. "That's not what I-"

"We can argue about that later. There's no handle, which means it's not technically locked…" He placed a hand against the door and gently pushed.

Kaelix snorted. "You really think it would be that easy?"

His mouth twitched in irritation. "How stupid would you have felt if that was all it took and you hadn't tried it first?"

"But it didn't work."

"No boobie traps, which means they aren't afraid of anyone forcing their way in. Can't Alohomora it if it doesn't have a lock. No flying keys anywhere," he let out a small laugh at some joke only he understood.

"We're just looking for some medical records. We're not trying to steal anything or hurt anyone. I just want to know what happened to Austin, is that too much to ask?"

There was a small click followed by grinding gears. Kaelix's heart leapt.

"Apparently not," Potter said with a grin.

The door swung open and revealed an impenetrable darkness beyond. The light from the corridor where they stood didn't seem to cross the threshold. Potter even attempted a Lumos charm, but the darkness of the room beyond swallowed the light. After exchanging a glance they stepped across the threshold together and triggered a light that illuminated a much smaller space than she had anticipated. As she took in what lay before them her heart sank again. The room beyond the elaborately decorated door was anything but. Hardly bigger than a broom cupboard, it contained a single drawer filing cabinet, set at the center of the small space. Rubbish when she'd been expecting treasure.

Potter leaned in. "It says _Record Archives_ on it."

But when he pulled the drawer open, it was empty.

"All this way for nothing? Rubbish," Kaelix grumbled.

"All this way and you give up over an empty cabinet?" Potter said, sliding the drawer closed again. "It's not like years of hospital records could fit in there anyway."

"No one said anything about giving up," she snapped. "You know, for someone who's been in the wizarding world as long as you have, you sure do think like a muggle an awful lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I really should have brought Hermione with me," she said, thumbing through a stack of parchment on one of the rusty shelves.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked, opening and closing the cabinet again.

"Exactly what you think it means."

It was difficult to not feel defeated at the moment, they were surrounded by a few spare brooms, a rusty shelving unit that contained an assortment of broken potion vials, a few wooden crates, and a bunch of other random junk. It reminded Kaelix of the Room of Requirement the first time she'd discovered it with Malfoy, just a bunch of discarded items. She peaked behind a weathered old tapestry, and examined the crates, but found nothing.

"I'm sure the seventh or eighth time's the charm," she said after Potter opened and closed the file drawer repeatedly.

"Have you got a better idea yet?"

"Yeah, look there," she said gesturing to the floor behind the cabinet.

There were track marks, straight behind either side that disappeared beneath some of the crates. Potter jumped up and followed the lines with his eyes. They exchanged a glance before simultaneously moving to clear away the crates. The marks tracked all the way back to the wall where a faint outline marked the wall as well.

"You think?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod.

Kaelix grabbed the small cabinet and pushed it the short distance to the wall. As soon as it came in contact with the wall there was a thud behind them. They both whipped around to see the door swing closed sharply, no handle on this side either. Potter let out a strangled sound and leapt across the room to try to force the door back open.

"Put the cabinet back," he ordered when the door didn't budge.

"Why?"

"Put it back or we might be locked in here."

"Seems like we're already locked in here, might as well finish exploring before we find out if it's permanent-"

Kaelix's mouth dropped open a bit when she turned back to face the cabinet and found it was no longer against the wall, because there was no longer a wall. Instead she faced the entrance to a vast cavern, lined with shelving units that seemed to extend up endlessly. A clear aisle lay directly in front of her, vanishing in the distance to give the same endless feeling as the vertical space.

"Williams, just move the cabinet back for a second-bloody hell."

They both stared for a moment. Even knowing the concept of interior expanding charms didn't stop the sheer vastness of the room from disorienting their brains.

"How far back do you think it goes?" he asked.

"Probably the year this place was founded," she said. "Come on, the dates are marked on the floor."

It felt like a very old library with so many stacks of so many records all compiled into one place. The musty smell of old parchment hung in the air. The floor was marble and seemed to echo quietly beneath their feet as they walked. And the entire space seemed to be illuminated by natural light despite being underground. They continued on until they found the aisles marked 1987, and then continued farther until they found the section marked August.

Her heart rate was picking up and at some point she almost forgot that Potter was there with her, or that somewhere up above them Remus was probably losing his mind because no one knew where they'd gone. Everything was in reverse chronological order, she traced back through the days.

The thirty-first...

The thirtieth...

The twenty ninth…

She didn't believe the Inn Man, she knew Austin had died but there was that nagging voice in the back of her head. A tiny little thing that whispered _what if_. What if Austin hadn't died here, what if the Inn Man was telling the truth.

The twenty eighth…

The twenty seventh…

She scanned the names as she thumbed through the files. It wasn't clear whether the records were actually stored up as high as the shelves appeared to go or whether there was some sort of charm in place to show her what she needed to see at eye level but she didn't have the bandwidth to consider it at the moment. Her fingertip stopped on the edge of a folder: _Loker, Austin_. She stared at the printed letters, clenching her jaw. The Old Man hadn't lied after all. The pit of her stomach twisted and she wasn't sure what she wanted to find within the folder. What would change after this moment if it revealed a truth she wasn't ready for.

"Do you want me to look?" Potter offered.

She almost jumped, having blocked him out of her periphery. In response she pulled the file out and flipped it open before she could hesitate any longer, simultaneously dropping to sit on the floor while she read. There was a picture of his small form, prone in a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages. It stole her breath and she flipped it around before it caused her to drop the folder altogether. Her eyes scanned the first page of notes, they were in an untidy but not illegible scrawl and she gathered they were summarizing the intake. She tried not to read too closely, the details of his injuries weren't exactly appealing.

There were several more pages of notes, each one dated for subsequent days. Tears pricked at her eyes and her mouth twitched as she kept reading. The notes went on and on, it hadn't taken them long to put him in a medically induced coma to aid the healing process. Flipping hastily through the following pages, weeks later, he finally seemed to be improving. The notes were hopeful, saying progress was slow but in the right direction. And then one final abrupt update at the bottom of the last page saying he died on December 10th, at 8:47 am, with an almost illegible scrawl stating he'd been ' _sent to DoM for research'_.

She covered her mouth with one hand, ruminating on those final words scribbled sloppily at the bottom of the page, an afterthought. Despite refusing to acknowledge it, her heart fell a fraction of a beat. A possibility snatched away. She let the previous pages fall back flat and gazed unseeing at that front page.

_Seven year old boy._

_Severe fire burns._

_No family._

Sucking in a breath she flipped to the back page again, scanning the letters there.

She leaned back slightly, the contrast clear as day. "Do you see this?"

Potter leaned over and scanned the page she was holding up. "Seems like he was in bad shape."

"Yeah, but then look here," she said, flipping to the last page.

She waited impatiently as Potter's eyes scanned over the new page. "I'm sorry, Williams," he said quietly.

"No, not that. Look at the difference in the handwriting," she said.

Perplextion crossed Potter's features but he took the file from her and flipped between the two pages.

"So, they switched Healers at some point, what's that matter?"

"Just the last page?" she said. "A different Healer wrote just the last page of notes? Stating that he died after he'd been slowly improving for weeks?"

He flipped between the pages again. "I guess it does seem a little off. So what do you think happened, an accident or something?"

Her mind tracked back through Michael O'Connor, Alexandra Fuhrman, her mother, and the book dealer. "Yeah," she agreed, "or something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey all, hope you're doing well and hope you enjoyed this update! Would love to hear what you think about *gestures vaguely* everything that's happening here, any theories out there? I love theories. As always, thank you so much for reading and a special thank you to those that leave reviews! I don't always have time to answer them but I always read them and they always make my heart smile :) Stay safe until the next update!


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